Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 212, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 September 1912 — THE MAXWELL MYSTERY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE MAXWELL MYSTERY

(Copyright The Frank A Munsey Co.) —■■ -o - CHAPTER YI. Suspected Testimony. The next witness called was Irene Gardiner. For some unaccountable reason I trembled as 1 saw her take the stand. There was no knowing what sort of an impression this strange girl might create,-and there were certain hits of evidence which I would feel sorry to have brought out in reference to her. “Where were you betweeh 10 and 10:30 last evening?” asked Mr. Billings. “On the upper balcony,” replied Irene, her head held high and her red lips'curled in a haughty expression. “Which part of the balcony?” The coroner’s voice was a —little more gentle. “The south end of the east side.” That was where I had left her when I came downstairs at 10 o’clock. The library opened on the southern end of the west balcony.

“Were you there alone?” “Mr. King was with me part of the time. Also, there were others in different parts of the balcony. After Mr. King left me I was alone.” “Were not the others you mentioned there?” “I don’t know; I could see no one from where I sat.” “How long did you remain there?” “I cannot tell by exact time. When I came into the house again I was met by Mr. King, who told me what had happened, and asked me to break the news to Miss Maxwell.” “While sitting on the balcony alone did you see any strangers, or anyone, around the grounds or on the driveway?” “None.” ■ “Did you stay in the same placaall the time you were on the balcony after Mr. King left you?” “No—that is, yes.” “What do you mean by that answer?” “I walked a few steps hack and forth.” “Not around the corner into the north side?” “N—no. Not so far as that.” As Irene made this statement her face grew ashen pale, and I thought I saw her glance in the direction of Gilbert Crane. “You are quite sure Miss Gardiner, that you did not walk around #n the north or west sides of the balcony until the time you came into the house?” “Quite certain,” said Irene, but her voice was so low as scarcely to be heard, and her eyes were cast down. I didn’t know what to make of her strange manner, and just them I happened to, look at Gilbert Crane. To my surprise, he was equally as pale and agitated in appearance. No one else seemed to notice this, so I kept my own counsel concerning it Miss Gardiner was dismissed, and other witnesses followed. None was important in the sense of throwing any further light on the incidents of the evening before. There were now no more witnesses to be heard from, save the most important one of all —Mildred Leslie. Dr. Sheldon consented that she be interviewed, providing it was done in her room in the presence of the smallest possible number of people. The coroner was to ask the questions, and a stenographer was to report Miss Leslie’s statements. Gilbert Crane and I strolled on the front lawn, smoking and discussing the events of the morning. “What did you think (Ts Miss Gardiner’s testimony?” I asked. “I think the poor girl was so agitated she did not know what she was saying,” he replied somewhat shortly, and as if he did not wish to dwell on the subject. “It is hot like Miss Gardiner,” I went on, "to lose heT poise in an emergency. She is usually so calm and self-possessed.” “I do not consider Miss Gardiner’s

a calm temperament,” said Gilbert; *'l think she is decidedly emotional.” “Emotional, yes; but she has a wonderful control over her emotions. And aside from that, she positively contradicted herself this morning. I wonder if she did walk around to the west side of the balcony and look in at the library window,” —-- This was mere,idle speculation on my part, but it had a strange effect on Gilbert Crane. “What do you mean?” he cried, angrily. “Are you Insinuating anything against Miss Gardiner’s veracity, or do you perhaps consider her implicated in the affair?” “1 have no thought of Miss Gardiner save such as are most honorable and loyal,” I said; “but, by the way, Crane, wliat sort of a gown did she wear last night?” “I don’t know, I’m sure. I’m no authority on ladles’ dress.” ■Somehow, the emphasis with which he said this made me think he was overdoing it, and that perhaps he was not so ignorant as he wished to appear. He was amiable enough after I had dropped the discussion and we returned to the house chatting affably. Determined to settle a certain point, I went in search of Miss Maxwell, and found her in the study with her brother. “Miss Miranda,” I said without subterfuge, “what sort of a gown did Miss Gardiner wear last evening?” “Why, she had on a lovely yellow silk gauze, a sort of pineapple material.” _ ■ “was it trimmed with feathers?’,’ “No,” and Miss Maxwell smiled a little. “We don’t trim dresses with feathers. But Irene wore a sort of fancy boa, or stole, of white and yellaw marabout.” She didn’t inquire why I wished to know; indeed, I think she scarcely realized what she was talking about for she spoke almost automatically. And now we heard the people coming down from upstairs, and all hastened back to the drawing room. “I will read,” said Mr. Billings, “the sworn testimony of Miss Mildred Leslie, given by her to me, and reported vebatim by my official stenographer. It is in dialogue form, and I will read it as written. Mr. Billings:—Miss Leslie, will you relate in your own words the story of the tragedy that occurred last evening in the library? Miss Leslie —Mr. Philip Maxwell and I were in the library, and had been there some time when a man appeared. Mr. Billings—Wait a moment, Miss Leslie, I must ask for more details. Excuse me,, but on what subjects were you and Mr. Maxwell, convers•ing? Miss Leslie—Must I tell that? Mr. Billings—l am sorry to annoy you, but you must. Miss Leslie—Well then, he was asking me to marry him. iMr. Billings—And you? IMiss Leslie—Oh! I refused him. I had tefused him many times before. He knew I didn’t care for him. Mr. Billings—He knew, then, that his was a hopeless suit? Miss Leslie —Yes. But he said he had something to tell me that he was sure would make me change my mind. (Mr. Billings—Did you learn what this something was? Miss Leslie—l did not. Before he had time to tell me that awful man came. Mr. Billings—We will come to that part presently. Did Mr. Maxwell say nothing that could suggest to you the nature of the important argument he meant to make? Miss Leslie—No, except that he said something had occurred a week or so ago, which had entirely changed his future, and which, he believed, would make me consent to marry him. Mr. Billings—How did you receive this suggestion? Miss Leslie —I only, laughed at him and made some foolish remark. And then he said, “Don’t trifle with me tonight, Mildred; I am desperate.” Mr. Billings—Did you then become more serious? Miss Leslie—Not I. I never was serious with Philip. The only way to manage him at all was to chaff him. Well, then, he kept on begging me to listen to him, and I saw him looking toward the window” Mr. Billings—One moment. Where were you both? Miss Leslie—We were both standing by the big table desk. We were on the side toward the hall—that is, the desk was btween us and the window. As Philip stood he faced the window, but I was turned sideways, leaning against the desk and looking at Philip, so when he looked toward the Window, and such a strange look of terror came into his eyes, of course I turned to look also. , I saw a man in full automobile suit. He had apparently just stepped in at the open window, and in his hand he held a pistol which he aimed at Philip. I didn’t scream. I was so paralyzed with fright I couldn’t even move. It seemed like minutes. Then Philip pulled open the top

drawer of the table desk and grabbed his own pistol. He raised it to aim at the man, and at the same time he said in a low, moaning voice, “Oh! to think he would shoot me!” Mr. Billings—Then you think Mr. Maxwell knew who shot hiip? Miss Leslie—l’m sure of it. But he was a stranger to me. He had— Mr. Billings—You may describe him later. Go on with your connected story. Miss I saw Philip take his pistol I had a wild desire to prevent either of the men from shooting. I suppose I was almost crazed by fright and scarcely knew what I was doing, but my only thought was to attack the man, and so I snatched up a heavy tmt-glass inkstand full of ink from the desk and threw it at him. T don’t know whether I hit him or not, but the next second I picked up a bronze horse that was on the desk and threw that at him, too. Philip and the man paid no attention to me, but stood with their pistols pointed at each other. Philip said again, “To thing he would shoot me!” and just then the man fired. Philip fell backward, and as he fell the pistol dropped from his hand on to the desk. I don’t know what gave me courage, buit I was maddened by fright, and I picked up that pistol and aimed at the man myself. With that he turned his own pistol toward me—l heard the report—and I remember falling forward. I remember no more. Mr. Billings—Would you recognize this man if you saw him again? Miss Leslie'—l think not; the clothes were not peculiar in any way. Just such as men wear when automobiljng. “That is all, gentlemen,” said Mr. Billings, addressing the jury at the close of his reading. All! I should think it was enough! I rushed from the room and out on the veranda, where I found a secluded corner. What sort of a story had Mildred told, and why? For the doctor had sworn she was perfectly sane and quite capable of describing the affair. Why, then, did she say she threw an inkstand full of Ink and a bronze horse at the intruder, when I, who had so carefully searched the room for clues, found no traces of ing? And, moreover, I especially remembered seeing that bronze horse on the desk when I first entered the library after Gilbert Crane had given the alarm! (To be Continued.)