Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 105, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 May 1911 — Page 3

Under the Rose

"Passages from the Case-Book of Inspector W fINNEY VALENTINE. Investigator

H! Detective bureau? «tor Valentine ?*’ Inspector Valenon the wire. “What’s ed?” “Oh, hello! you, inspector? This ctor Zabriskie" “Yes, ead, doctor.” “Right. :tor, there’s a case re that will interest [ believe. Something ty queer. Can you make it?” “Where are you, doctor?” “Right-twenty-four Madison avenue. Ask for me or Mrs. Mitchell —that's the name of the woman who owns the house. Be up right away? O. K. HI wait.” - -- ■ «... r foregoing was a telephonic interchange between Inspector Finney Valentine at police headquarters and Doctor Zabriskie at the up-town address named. The latter was a practising physician and also one of the city coroners. ' #'-%■ - . While Inspector Valentine is on his way to No. 824 we may rapidly review the tragic occurrence which demanded the presence of New York’s chief of detectives. ' " * : - \ That very morning a certain Mr. • Caleb Winnett. had~ been found dead In a swivel-chair before his desk in the back parlor of the Madison ariPT nue house—a respectable domicile in the “brown-stone district.” Doctor Zabriskie had been Immediately sent for in his capacity of private practitioner; that he was also one of the medico-legal officers of the great city enabled him to act at his discretion and without publicity until he had consulted with his old friend, Fihney Valentine, whose one hobby it was to be first in the field when some apparent crime had been committed before the case was muddled by unskillful subordinates on his staff. - The residence on Madison. avenue was owned and had been run as a high-class boarding-house by the, Mrs. Mlchell afore mentioned. For the last twelve years her chief “guests” had been Caleb Winnett and his niece, Zenith Winnett. By degrees and at the request of the former, other boarders had been gradually eliminated, until uncle and niece were the solo inmates outside of Mrs. Mlchell and her step-son, a young man named Felix Carnaby. As may perhaps be Inferred, Caleb Winnett was eccentric: and rich how rich no one knew. He occupied the parlor floor suite, consisting of three rooms, front, middle and rear extension, the first as a sitting or reception room, the second as an office, the third as a sleeping chamber. Miss Winnett slept upstairs on the second floor. It was generally 1 understood — though- the definite terms were known cnly to Mrs. Mlchell and Mr. Winnet the latter paid well for the privilege of being her star lodger. Caleb Winnett was ostensibly a man of Independent fortune; he followed no regular business —that is,, he was not "in the street” or engaged in any mercantile affairs. Yet there was a pretty constant stream of callers at 824 Madison avenue—both men and women, young and old, many of whom came in private carriages, taxicabs, or’motor cars, and at various hours, day and night. ; ' Mrs. MicheU’s interest lay in being close-mouthed, as Caleb Winnett had often cautioned her. And yet—one scarcely knows how these things get out —It was currently rumored that the tall old man with the stoqp shoulders, the long iron-gray hair, and the hawk-like face and nose, was a money-lender at cent-per-cent rates of Interest—a veritable New York replica of London’s master money-lender, 6am Lewis, of savory memory. And rumor was not far out of the way. Caleb Winnett was a plethoric spider, fattening and gloating over the money difficulties of rich men’s sons who had exceeded their allowances, jof silly women whose losses at_ bridge compelled them to borrow atTruinous rates or to hypothecate their Jewels, or of plungers On “street” or trackwho needed to replenish their bank rolls. All of this was true; Caleb Winnett had made the business pay to the extent of being many times a millionaire. Likewise the necessities of hie unfortunate clients had time and again put him in the possession of ruinous secrets. And now be was dead—dying the death of a lonely and hated old man. Even as there had been something mysterious and secretive about his life, so there was more than suspicion as to the manner of his taking off. Doctor Zabriskie met Inspector. Valentine at the door topping the high stoop, and led the way to the rear apartment on the parlor floor which had been the old usurer’s bedroom. Bo far no undertaker had been railed; Zabriskie and Mrs. Mlchell be tween them had carried the body to the bed. Coat, vest and shirt were partly open as they had been left after the physician’s examination. Doctor Zabriskie was the first to speak, “i was called about an hour

ThlMfigree Hatpin

By FREDERIC REDDALE

(Copyright by W. O. Chapman)

hours, possibly ten, for rigor mortis had set in.” ' ; ' - "Natural causes?” queried Valeo* tine. Doctor Zabriskie shook his head. Btepping to the side of the bed he bared the dead man’s left breast. "Look there,” he pointed. A minute red puncture like a pimple, hardly bigger than a pinhead, discolored the lean fleah. The inspector, a man of few words, raised his eyebrows questioningly. “You think—” he was beginning, when the more volatile Zabriskie interrupted in a tense whisper, hand to mouth: , “That’s what killed him. The heart was punctured by some exceedingly flue weapon—so fine that there was no External bleeding. He must have died instantly!” - / - Valentine nodded as he rose from inspecting tihe tiny spot, scarcely noticeable to the unskilled eye. He had too much faith in Zabriskie’s skill to question his diagnosis. “Anything been disturbed?” be asked in that muffled tone with which the most hardened observers pay homage to the king of terrors. “Nothing. Neither his niece nor the woman of the house know anything as yet, except the bare fact of death. Ab coroner, of course, the case comes Within my Jurisdiction, but so -far I am here merely as * the nearest regular practitioner. It rests between you ahd me. Undoubtedly a crime has been committed, but whoever did It has made a clean getaway, I guess.” ' "I’d like to look around,” said Valentine, stepping Into the back parlor where Caleb Winnett had his office. “Is this where you found him?” pointing to a roomy revolving chair which was pushed back from the tidily-ar-ranged table-desk' ' “Exactly. * He was all hunched over on his right side, one arm nearly touching the floor. This chair here,” pointing to an ordinary cane straightbacked seat, “stood facing his left. The folding doors were’ closed when I arrived.” ~

Inspector Valentine took a position directly behind the empty swivel chair and his eyes swept the well-. ordered room. A bookcase occupied one recess, a small steel safe the other; there was no window, the middle room being lighted from the rear extension or from the front parlor, like hundreds of similar New York houses. A few steel engravings of commonplace subjects hung on the walls; the furniture was of the blackwalnut and hair-cloth epoch; a plain tapestry carpet worn white in spots covered the floor, save a rag-rug for a foot-rest before the desk. Evidently the dead millionaire had not cared to squander his money on modern furniture or fal-lals. All was dingy and dreary; the furnishings of the parlor and sleeping room were equally ordinary and colorless. And yet that sordid boarding-house backparlor had doubtless witnessed many a tragedy, culminating In one that had cost the avaricious web-spinner his life. “Go out and make some calls; come back in an hour,” was Valentine’s curt request to Zabriskie when be had completed his eaglelike survey, “and don’t talk" The doctor nodded, stepped Into the third room for his case of instruments and medicines and tiptoed to the door. Valentine, at his heels, closed and locked it after him. Then, lighting every gas-burner, his manner changed instanter; he became as alert m a terrier nosing out a rat. Now on hisknees, now peering into corners, then lifting and shaking every paper on the desk, he literally turned that dingy apartment inslde.out and upside down; yet his methods were so adroit that not even the lynx-eyed Caleb Winnett himself could have told that his sanctum had been Invaded. ' At the end of twenty minutes’ thorough search, the detective gave a grunt of satisfaction and rose to his feet. He had been groping among the heavy chenille fringe at the bottom of the double portiere which half screened the folding doors. Approaching the flood of light under the fourarmed chandelier he held in his fingers a small glittering object, rounded and flat Laying it in the palm of the other band, he turned it over and over. A small hole on the plainer and under side proved the thing to be the gold end silver filigree head of a woman’s long hatpin! That was all; for, search as he would, the missing shank was not to be found, nor did either of the other rooms yield any bettor result. L. Precisely at the expiration of thirty minutes Doctor Zabriskie rapped on the door, which Valentine opened, then closed. ■ “You’re sure as .to the manner of death r’ was the query which met him. “Perfectly,” was the quiet reply. "A stiletto?" asked Valentine, his gray eyes biasing. “Well, yes, provided It was as fine and slender as Shakespeare’s bodkin. But they don’t make them nowadays.” "No—but hat-pins, yea!’’ declared the detective, opening his hand and showing the glittering bauble. “There’s

your weapon—or what’s left of It?- 1 “By Gad!” exclaimed the other. .-"But where’s the root?” : Finney Valentine shrugged his shoulders. “That we’ve got to find—berhaps It may never turn up. Did yon probe the wound —: "There’s no broken end there, If that’s what you mean,” answered Za> briskle. “Whatever weapon killed him was suddenly plunged,.lnto hid breast and as suddenly withdrawn, leaving an absolutely clean puncture.” "And the head came off the stiff steel wire in that backward pull," commented Valentine conclusively. “Then the culprit, horrified, grabbed the wire and escaped. Inadvertently dropping this tell-tale head, or m*£be he or she was too flurried to search for it minutely." • : V;- - “It must have been- a she,” said Doctor Zabriskie; “just the sort of weapon you might expect a woman rto use. Our friend here, I’ve heard, was a bit shady, and had dealings with both sexes.” Inspector Valentine nodded. “But don’t be too sure,”, he cautioned. "Wouldn’t it take a man’s strength and adroitness to deal a fatal blow with so slender a weapon?” "Perhaps,” assented the doctor doubtfully.- "It must have been' a chance stroke, for no-one unskilled in anatomy could hope to reach the vital spot through several thicknesses of clothing.” Valentine nodded again. '1 guess we’ll talk to the Inmates a bit,” he said. “Will you call them in one by one, beginning with Miss Winnett? But not a word, remember, as to the real cause of death. Better mention me as your medical colleague." >4 , The ensuing inquisition drew nothing but a long series of blanks. Zenith Winnett, the dead man’s niece, a typical “sweet girl,” had been at the .theater and a dance; she had left the hoqse on the preceding evening at seven-forty-five after kißsing her uncle good-night; returning at two a. m., she went directly to her own room;

she had noticed nothing out of the common on her return. The landlady’s . examination was equally unproductive; she never troubled Mr. Winnett or entered his rooms, even to clean, unless sent for. She had retired early the night before. Yes, the old gentleman mqst have had callers, for she heard the bell ring two or three times, but that was not unusual; he usually answered s the‘ door himself, and let the people (gilt afterward; -indeed, that was one reason why he had made it financially worth her while to dismiss all her other boardera; he seemed to desire the strictest privacy for himself and bis visitors.

For so small a family only one maid was needed. This one—a stupid Svftde—had gone to her room on' the third floor —back—at eight or eightthirty, and had neither seen nor heard anything unusual until tapping at Mr. Wlnnett’B door to call him to breaks fast. When he didn’t answer, she imported to Miss Zenith and lfrs. Mlchell. , •’••I"; -'V’ %. "Who found the body, then?" queried Inspector Valentine at this point. Miss Zenith and the landlady; they bad gone upstairs together from the basement dining-room, found the door to the oAce unlocked, and entered. Seeing that the old man had been dead some time, they had telephoned to Doctor Zabrlskle in the next block «s the nearest physician. "Were there any other Inmates of the bouse?" Inquired Valentine. Only one—a yoiing man named Vtellx Carnaby, son of Mrs. Michell's first husband. But it seemed Mr. Carnaby was not at home, and further pressure elicited the fact that he had not been home *ll night. Seeing that both Doctor Zabrlskle and his friend seemed rather annoyed and suspicious at this information, the landlady grew more volubly communicative. ; £»>.*? -C * if' V-i ' dll - .-l.

as notice the young man at meal Es. S3SSK latch key. and he was always very quiet about coming In late at night because Mr. Wlnnett hated to be dlsturbea.

Asked how long It was since Felix Carnaby and C»ileb Wlnnett had quarreled, the good woman guessed It must have been all of a month or six weeks ago. And of course Felix and Zenith were still engaged ; no young man of spirit would let a little thing like a crabbed old uncle coipe between if the young lady was still true. Finally It came out that Zenith Wlnnett would be sole heiress to the old man’s millions, since he had no other relatives. Did Mr. Carnaby know this? Why, everybody knew It! ~ Thus ended the examination of the female inmates of the Madison avenue house. Undoubtedly, Inspector Valentine reflected, Mr. Felix Carnaby must be Interrogated and perhaps taxed with the crime.' However, It would not do to alarm Mrs. Mlchell. “I think you would better make out a regular death certificate,” he said to Zabrlskle when they were once more alone. "At the present stage of the Inquiry I don’t want any inquest

with its attendant publicity. Do thle In your private capacity; you can reopen the case officially should occasion arise." "I’ll make it heart-lesion,” said the physician grimly, “and It’s true enough." Returning to police headquarters, as was bis wont, Yalentlne picked up that morning’s Herald to scan the lost and found column. About half way down he gave a start. This is what he read:

“Lost —A gold and silver filigree hatpin, either in the Garden theater or on Madison square. Return to 1489 Broadway. Reward.’’ In a jiffy Valentine was on his way to the address given, which proved to be «Tflorist’s shop. Behind the counter stood a smart, good-looking, extravagantly pompadoured "younglady" of the type dubbed "dashing blond" along the Great White Way. "I called In answer to this advertisement," said Finney Valentine. Luckily for his present purpose he was not In uniform. . ..w: "Oh, did you find It-—the pin, I meant My gentleman Mend bet me a dinner at Martin’s that I’d never see it again, so I*ll have the laugh on him ap’ he’ll be out some!!’ "We mustn’t be too sure," continued Valentine. "I found something—part of a pin. In fact. Just where did you lose.it?" /. "Either In th’ theayter—th’ Garden, y’ know, or else on Madison square. Guess It must ’a* been In th* theayter, ’cause I can’t seem t* remember pinning on my hat with it when we came out.” “Is this It?” queried the inspector, displaying the mutilated head. "Sure It is!" exclaimed the ghrL "I’d know it anywheres. Some one must 'a' stepped on It! Ain't It a measly shame! Thank you ever so much. How much shall I pay you for

lent tEflto—for of course lio’s yotuic ” | “His name’s Carnaby—Felts Car-1 watching her caller for any sigh of recognition. Only Valentine’s habitual facial control saved him from betraying a start of surprise at this queer coincidence, Unconsciously the* girl helped him by saying, as he started for the door: “Fm ever-so-much-obliged. If you’ll tell me your name and address I’ll send you some flowers." Valentine bowed his thanks and scribbled on one of the blank cards lying on the counter: "Mr. Finney,” with his private street and number. "That will find me,” he said, "since you mean to be so kind.” He wanted to get away. A hat-pin might be a woman’#’ weapon, as Zabrlakie had suggested, but here was evidence linking Felix Carnaby with the possible possession of just sueh a weapon, the head of which had been found on the scene of the murder only the night before. With lightning rapidity his fertile mind forged the connecting links; Felix might have abstracted the pin during the performance at the Garden, allowing the girl to think it lost, with the Intention of using it as a lethal weapon, and one likely to leave no trace, on old Wlnnett. To that end he could have stealthily let himself into his step-mother’s house, sought an interview with his victim, and after vainly demanding consent to his niece’s marriage, have stabbed the old man In cold blood, thus making sure of Zenith Winnett and her fortune! And the fact that while engaged to one girl he was escorting another to theaters and late suppers did not argue absolute impeccability on the young man’s part. It was a working hypothesis, certainly, yet Finney Valentine was too old a bird to snap at mere probabilities. He must have better prods, but it certainly looked black for Felix Carnaby !-. /■ i \ r - - : - ■ i Back at his desk again, his first move was to put a careful member of the detective squad on the Job of shadowing young Carnaby. Then perforce other routine cases demanded his attention for the rest of that day and late into the night. But next morning a fresh surprise met him in the shape of a violently perfumed pink note from Miss Virgie Hexam, dated the previous evening. “Dear Mr. Finney,” it ran, "such a funny thing happened! I’ve found my real pin, not broken at all. One of the ushers at the theater brought it round. It must have dropped under the seat. Won’t you please come and get the one you left and, believe me, your friend, V. Hexam.”

"That seems to let Master Felix out," he mused with a quizzical smile as he ate his frugal breakfast. “But it certainly thickens the mystery. There must be two pins exactly alike. Wonder who owns the one that did the mischief?" . '.4, On his way downtown he stopped at the float’s to interview Miss Vlrgie Hexam. "Mistaken? Not on your life! ’Course, the two beads was just alike, but that was nothin'. Hatpins—even valuable ones like thesd here—was turned out by hundreds. But It suttin’ly was a perfec’ scream that two of ’em should a’ been lost th’ same night.” And so on, ad infinitum, until "Mr. Finney" made his escape. He had no further use for Vlrgie Hexam in solving the mystery attending Caleb Winhett’s death. Ever fertile in resource, Valentine concluded to do a little advertising on bis own account —a random shot, a back-fire, as it were, which might bag some game. So next day's Herald contained this cunningly-worded advertisement: ‘ fN> FOUND.—Under rasplctous circumstances, a sold and sliver filigree hat-pin. Owner will do well tc fall In person upon Mr. Atwater, Room 220. Westover Building. any afternoon from 4-4. and save trouble to Innocent persons. * Both name and address were disguises which the inspector used and found useful upon occasion in the ramifications of his work. The advertisement was merely a chance—hut chances in the detective- world sometimes prove better than certainties. For he argued that the guilty person—man or woman—would be conscious of the damning evidence left behind. And the very fact that be had carefully suppressed all bint that a crime had been committed would be apt to strike terror to « guilty soul—especially should it prove that tbe culprit was a novice. Nor was bis reasoning at fault.

Three days went by without a nibble. Then on the fonrth afternoon, as the Inspector sat In Room 220 In the Westover building, his patience was rewarded. __ There was a sudden swish of skirts along the tiled hallway, a half-hesi-tating, half defiant tap on the door and to his answering "Come!” there entered a richly-gowned woman border lng on early middle-age whom the great detective, who knew everybody in Gotham, immediately recognised as Ifij*, Mason Marott, wife of a prominent corporation lawyer and bergelf a leader in one of tbe many smart sets of ths metropolis. / Finney Valentine rose to greet her. bowed in alienee, Disced a chair, and quietly locked the door, instead of seating herself the woman faced him. demanding hoarsely, her voice trembling with terror and agitation:

j W* you find it? I searched —” Then, suddenly realizing that out of her own mouth she had perhaps condemned herself, she clapped a gloved hand to her lips and almost collapsed in her chair, a sickly pallor whitening her still beautiful cheeks. Valentine considerately waited before pressing home the Inevitable and fateful query; "Why did you do ttT Tell me—l most have the truth, Mrs. Marott, before you or I leave this room." She started to her feet, her eyes gleaming with almost insane passion, her gloved hands clenching and unclenching until the delicate kid threatened to burst. > “Why did I do itr she almost screamed. “Because that monster made my life a hell! Because he threatened to ruin me socially! Because he had me in his power! He was a fiend incarnate, and the world is well rid of such carrion!” A minute’s pause and the sorely-racked victim of man’s cupidity went on more calmly; "Like a fool, I wanted more money than my husband could give me. I owed for losses at bridge, to my dressmakers, and for foolish exr travagances. A woman friend told me that Caleb Winnett lent freely to society women, so I went to him. At first he asked no security—simply my promise to pay—notes, he called them. Instead of winning at cards, I lost more—then borrowed again. Whenever I received my monthly allowance it all went to satisfy that—that Shylock! In all, I paid back the original loans twice over, yet I never could get out of his clutches. Finally he became ugly, demanded security, so I gave him my jewels. But he was insatiable, the wretch! I literally stripped myself of valuables. I was forced to lie to my husband in the attempt to explain matters until my life became a living torment! Still he demanded payment, and declared he’d wait no longer, but would apply to Mr. Marott. That —that night I went to make a last appeal. Then the fiend incarnate insuited me, and in a frenzy of anger—l didn’t really realize wba* I was doing—l snatched a long pin from my hat and—struck the monster! When I realized what I had done, when I saw hin i huddled limp and lifeless in his chair, I ran from

the house. Now you have the truth, the whole truth, so help me God! Do what you will with me!” As Inspector Finney Valentine listened to this bald and tragic recital which his oVn genius had elicited, and which cleared up the mystery of the filigree hatpin, it was borne upon him that this woman—respected, honored, loved —had been more sinned against than sinning. Retribution bad overtaken Caleb Winnett, and doubtless many another unfortunate* was now liberated from his tolls. No jury would ever convict her! The great detective sat In silence, his heart wrung responsively to the racking sobs of the woman, beforahim. Surely this was a time, he thought, when justice should be tempered with merey. There came to his mind the words of another: "Hath any man condemned thee? Neither do 1 condemn thee. Go in peace." Rising slowly to his feet, Inspector Valentine broke silence. "Mrs. Marott,” he said, gravely, "you have already borne enough. What has trans pired here today is as though it had never been. I wish yon good afternoon and as much happiness as the future can bring.” , The woman rose likewise, looked at him a moment with swimming eyes, then bowed her head and went bet way..

Electric Bells Scarecrows.

it is said that there is no beast which despises an electric bell so cordially as s bird. The people who have been adorning their premises with scarecrows of various types, in ths hope of dissuading the crows, blackbirds, and other thieves from settling down upon the crops, have overlooked the only thing that will drive a bird away as far as he can fly and keep him there throughout all time. If the farmer were to take advantage of this recent discovery of the bird's antipathy to an eleetrie bell, and install a few wires and cheap bells-in his gardens and fields, he would acquire the disapproval of the birda so that they would not even eat his cherries. Ths efficacy of this type of scarecrow, by the wuy, was discovered lately by the teacher of an Austrian public school, who has a patent on a clock which connects a series of bells with the batteries at regular Intervals—Just often enough to keep the birds unsettled and annoyed.

Easy.

"Japanese children are taught to write with both hand.” || “That’s nothing. If we had the kind of writing that the Japanese have it would be easy enough for most of us to write with both feet."