Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 206, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 August 1912 — THE MAXWELL MYSTERY [ARTICLE]

THE MAXWELL MYSTERY

(Copyright, The Frank A Munsey Co.) o CHAPTER IV. Who Fired the Shots* The next morning it was a sad party that gathered around the Maxwell breakfast table. The news .of Mildred was not encouraging. Dr. Sheldon greatly feared brain fever and kept the girl under the influence of narcotics. He said she had uttered no words, save to repeat, “Oh! to think that he should shoot me!” in pathetic, despairing tones. We endeavored to keep away from the subject of the tragedy and tried to talk of cheerful or pleasant things, but it was difficult. Mr. Maxwell said almost nothing. The poor old man was crushed, and unless someone spoke directly to him, he paid little heed to anything that was said. After we had finished breakfast Mr. Hunt came. This seemed to arouse Mr. Maxwell’s indignation. “It is no case for a detective,” he said, with a severity of manner I had never noticed in him before. “If, as Miss Leslie asserts, my poor boy shot her, that is all that is necessary for us to-know about the affair. As to motive, my nephew has been seriously troubled of late, and doubtless his worry so distracted his mind that he was irresponsible for his act. At any rate, I choose to consider him so.” Mr. Hunt bowed and departed. I accompanied him to the gate. “That is a possibility,” I said, “though it’s a new theory to me. But Philip was very much upset, indeed, deeply troubled for some unknown cause; and I, for one, do not think that cause was connected with Miss Leslie.” “Then why did he shoot her?” demanded Hunt. “He didn’t intentionally. But if his mind was unbalanced, who can hold him responsible for the deed?” “That’s true,” said Hunt. “Well, 1 suppose it will all be cleared up at the inquest.” “The inquest,” I cried, “must there be one?” “Of course. But since the perpetrator of this murder is not alive, it will doubtless be a mere matter of form.” “Where will it be held?”* “Right here in the house, probably. Today or .tomorrow, I should think; as the funeral will be on Thursday, and they can’t bury him without a permit.” Queer nobody hear the shots,” went on Mr. Hunt, “Did nobody hear them?” I exclaimed. “I hadn’t thought of that.” “Why, I thought you showed some signs of defective fever,” said he. “I do take a great interest in detective work,” I replied, “but I feel like Mr. Maxwell in this case. I see no occasion to detect anything beyond what we already know. It seems mysterious, I admit, but we know that one or both of the two victims did the shooting, and truly, to me, it doesn’t matter which.” “It does to me,” said Gilbert Crane, who had joined us as we stood by the gate and had heard my last remark. “Well,” said Mr. Hunt, with what seemed to me like brutal cheerfulness, “If Miss Leslie gets well we’ll know all about it; and if she doesn’t we’ll never know any more than we do now.” “If she fired either ball she did it accidentally,” declared Crane. “Didn’t you hear the shots, either?” asked Mr. Hunt, turning on him suddenly. “No,” said Gilbert, “and I can’t find anyone that did hear them.” i "But you were the first on the scene.” “Yes, so far as I know.” “How did you happen up to the library juss then?” “I didn’t start for the library,” said Gilbert slowly. “I was' feeling pretty blue and forlorn and the gay music jarred on me, so I thought I’d go home. I went banjo, which I had left on the upper front balcony earlier in the evening. "As I reached the top of the stairs I couldn’t help looking toward the library, and as I heard no sounds, though I had been told Philip and Mildred were in there, I glanced in, I suppose from sheer curiosity.” "Who told you they were in there?” “I did,” said I, “or, rather, I told Mr. Maxwell in Mr. Crane’s hearing. I saw them there when I went downstairs. That was, I should think, about half an hour before Mr. Crane gave the alarm.”

“Can either of you tfix the time of these occurrences?” said Mr. Hunt. He was very polite, even deferential In his manner, and. I saw no harm in accommodating him. “I can tell you only this,” I said. “After I passed the library, where I both heard and saw Philip and Miss Leslie, I went on downstairs and looked Into Mr. Maxwell’s study. “He asked me to sit down. I uid not do so; but after a word or two I weht on through to the billiard room. I looked at the clock in the study as I passed and it was exactly 10. I can’t say, though, at just what time the general alarm was given; I should think less than a half hour later.” “I can tell you,’ said Gilbert “When I concluded to go home I looked between the portiers into Mr. Maxwell’s study and it was 20 minutes past 10. Mr. Maxwell was nodding over his paper; he is a little deaf, so he probably didn’t hear me. “At any rate, he didn’t look up. Then I went immediately upstairs and it could not have been more than two minutes before I called Dr. Sheldon.”

“All this is of interest and I thank you,” said Hunt. “Queer chap, isn’t he?” I said to Gilbert as he went away. There was plenty for all to do that day. I assisted Mr. Maxwell to write letters to the various relatives, and together we looked over poor Philip’s effects. The boy "had no business papers to speak of, for he had no money except what wa3 given him by his uncle. paid all his bills,” Said Mr. Maxwell, in explanation, “and kept the receipts. I allowed Philip such ready cash as he wanted, and never stinted Mm.”— I agreed that there was no indication of financial trouble. Later in the morning I went for a stroll with Irene Gardiner. The girl looked so pale and I hoped a brisk walk would do her good. “Mr. King,” said Miss Gardiner, -T suppose you will)think very hardly of me, but I have looked at this matter in all lights, and I want to ask you if this isn’t a possible case. Mightn’t Philip have shot Mildred, and, since she is not severely wounded, might she not have snatched the pistol from him and shot at him in return?” I looked at Miss Gardiner in amazement. I felt horrified that she should imagine this, and yet there was a shadow of plausibility in it. “It seems almost jmpoasrole,” I said slowly, “that a wounded girl could have energy enough to secure a pistol and shoot her assailant. And yet, I admit, I can think of no other way to explain Miss Leslie’s amazement that Philip should have shot her.” “You don’t think it possible, then, that Mildred may not be as unconscious as she seems, and that she is making this repeated statement for reasons of her own?” “Miss Gardiner!” I exclaimed, now thoroughly aroused “I am surprised at you. Even if you suspect Miss Leslie of absolute crime, pray give the poor girl the benefit of the doubt until she can defend herself, or is beyond all need of defense.”

“You do me injustice,” said Irene, raising her bead hautily. “My logical mind necessitates the consideration of every possible solution of this puzzle. I look upon Mildred impersonally, merely as one of the actors in a tragic drama.” “You have, indeed, a logical mind,” I said coldly. “At any rate,” I ventured, “you have no word of blame for Philip.” She turned flashing eyes toward me and in a moment I realized the situation. She t""*! in the grip of two strong emotions. Grief for the man she had loved and jealousy for her rival. “Never speak of him to me!” she exclaimed. “I claim that much consideration from you.” “And you shall certainly receive it*” I said gently. “But, on the other hand, let me beg you not to do an innocent girl an injustice, which your better nature will surely regret later.” Irene looked at me. She had never seemed more beautiful, and her wonderful eyes expressed contrition, gratitude and a deep and hopeless sadness. She held out her hand. “I thank you,” she said; “you have saved me from a grave mistake.” “Still I didn’t understand her, but I realized she was beginning to faseinate me in her mysterious way, and I abruptly turned our steps toward home.

Wlhen we reached Maxwell Hall we found Dr. Sheldon and Miss Miranda in the study. Evidently something .had happened. “What Is it?” I inquired. “Is Mildred” —- y * “No,” slid Dr. Sheldon, “Miss Leslie is no worse. On the contrary, she is much better. Her mind is entirely cleared and' she talks rationally, though I am not willing she should be questioned much as yet ~v : "I am very glad you have come, Tor there te a new aqd startling development in the case, and there is much to be done.” “What is it?" I asked. “Simply this. Miss Leslie, being perfectly rational, you understand,

says that neither she nor Philip fired any shots at all. They were both shot by an intruder who came in at the library window.” ‘ “But,” I exclaimed, “then what did she mean by saying, ‘He shot me!’ in such a grieved tone?” “Bhe jtells us,” said Dr. Sheldon, “that those were the last words uttered by Philip as he fell, and that they rang in her brain to the exclusion of all else. That is why she repeated them, parrotlike, during her unconsciousness.” “This changes the whole situation,” said I, thinking rapidly. “It does,” said Mr. Maxwell. “It is now a case for a detective.” Then he added In a manly way, “I am sorry i spoke to Mr. Hunt this morning, and I have written to tell him so, and to ask him to return and help us.” , “But what”- I began. “You know what we all do,” interrupted the doctor. “If Miss Leslie is questioned further or in any way excited at present I will not answer for the consequences. My first duty is to my patient. “This afternoon, and in my presence, she may be interviewed by some one who can do it gently and discretly. 'Tomorrow, in all probability, she will be quite herself, and may be questioned by a detective or anyone empowered by Mr. Maxwell.” And with this we were obliged to be content. (To be Continued.)