Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 221, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 September 1912 — THE MAXWELL MYSTERY [ARTICLE]

THE MAXWELL MYSTERY

(Copyright, The Frank A Munsey Co.) o— CHAPTER VIL Bed Ink and a Horse of Bronze. Not for a moment did I doubt Mildred’s good faith in the matter. It would be too absurd to think of her making such statements if they were not true. “ Clearly she must be laboring under an hallucination regarding these things and probably she so strongly desired to throw the inkstand or the horse that she really believed she did throw them. But, after all, though this'point was interesting, it was incidental .evidence. The main thing was to find the man in the automobile clothes. He must be some one whom Philip knew and recognized in spite of the goggles. He must have come from a distance, had left his machine at some point nearby, and had approached the house secretly and on foot. But how had he gained entrance? But there was no use crying over spilled milk, so I started at once to look cheerfully at the veranda pillars. There I found, myself forestalled. Mr. Hunt and Gilbert Crane were already examining them. “Any scratches?” said I. “Plenty of old ones,” said Mr. Hunt, “but none that seem to have been made as recently as last night.” “How about automobile tracks?” "There are any number of those aft over the drive; but as several people came in automobiles last night, they mean nothing definite.” “What do you make of those marks on the balcony floor that look as if made by scuffling feet?” ‘They may be the marks of a scuffle, or it may be some one stood for some time looking in at the library window, A nervous person standing there might move around in a manner to leave just such traces.” For some unaccountable reason these remarks of Mr. Hunt seemed to disturb Gilbert Crane. He turned pale and was about to speak, then set his lips firmly, and turned silently away. “There is one circumstance, th a* ought to be explained,” I said, speak ing to Mr. Hunt, and hoping that Crane would leave us.

T found these bits of evidence this morning,” I said, taking my note book from my pocket. “They may not be vital clues, but anything found in the library is of interest.” J produced the three bits of yellow feather. -> “Do you recognize these?” '“No,” said Mr. Hunt, “what are they?” “Do you recognize them?” I said, turning suddenly to Gilbert Crane. “Y-es,” he stammered, “they seem, to be bits of down from a light wrap which Miss Gardiner wore last evening.” —“They are,” I said, “and I picked them up in the library, and on the balcony, and one piece I disengaged from the catch of the library window shutter.” “Well,” said Gilbert Crane, trying to speak naturally, “and what does that prove to you?”' “It doesn’t sprove anything,-’ I said slowly, “but it is a peculiar coincidence that Miss Gardiner declares she was not in the library last evening or on the west balcony at all." “She says that?” said Hunt, looking up sharply, while Gilbert Crane looked more distressed than ever. “Yes,” I answered. “Did you speak; Mr. Crane?” “No,” said Gilbert, “I have nothing to say on the subject.” And turning abruptly, left us and walked rapidly across the lawn out of the front gate. “I don’t understand Miss Gardiner’s attitude,” said Mr. Hunt. “I cannot think she had anything to do with the, crime, but I do think she is withholding information of some sort. But I must go now, and I will return this evening. Then, if you please, Mr. King, I would like to discuss matters at length with you.” When Mr. Hunt came back that evening he found me with Mr. Maxwell in the study. Although I dlj not wish to pain the old gentleman with more., details than were necessary, yet I wanted him to know as nearly as possible how matters stood; and, too, I’ wanted the benefit of his sound judgment and good advice. “Come in, Mr. Hunt,” I said. "Let us three sum up the real evidence.” “First,” said the detective, “I would like to know Mr. Maxwell’s opinion of; Miss Leslie’s testimony.” “I have just been reading it,” said Mr. Maxwell. “I did not hear it clearly when Mr. Billings read it, so I asked permission to read the paper myself. I do not know Miss Leslie very well, told. I was sure the old gentleman’s conservative habits of speech would not allow him to put this into words, but that his sense of justice demanded an intimation of the idea. After a little further, conversation with Mr. Maxwell, we left the study and Hunt and I went for a walk. • “It’s clear ;to my mind,” said Hunt, “that this shooting was done by an intruder from outside, not a common

but she impresses me as nothing more •r less than a merry, light-hearted, innocent girl. Coquettish, perhaps, |>ut I think the depths of her nature are honest and sincere. “Now, we have all agreed that her testimony regarding the inkstand and the paperweight cannot in the very nature of things, be true testimony. (For ink spilled on a carpet will remain there, and bronze horses cannot get up on a.table by themselves. "Personally, then, I am forced to the opinion that Miss Leslie’s mind is affected —temporarily only, I trust But surely there is no other explanation for her strange statements. And, granting this, may it not be possible that her whole story of the man in the automobile coat is but a figment of her diseased mind?” "It is possible,” said Mr. Hunt, “but they tell me that Miss Leslie is so clear-headed and rational in her conversation that I find it difficult to disleleive her story of the intruder.” “Nor do I ask you to,” said Mr. Maxwell. “I only want to call your attention to thet logical point that such grave discrepancies in one part of her recital might argue doubt in other directions. “I have a logical mind, but I have none otf what is often called the detective instinct. That is why I wish to put this whole affair entirely in the hands of an able detective. "And again of a detective’s ability I do not consider myself a judge. If you think, Mr. Hunt, that you can take care of it successfully, I have sufficient confidence in you to give you the entire responsibility. Or, should you prefer to call in ah assistant or an expert from the city, I am quite willing you should do so.” H I don’t want to seem egotistical, Mr. Maxwell,” said Mr. Hunt, “but I can’t help feeling that Mr. King and I can take care of this thing. "Then we will leave it that way,” •aid Mr. Maxwell. "I shall be glad to have Mr. King for my guest as long cs he will stay, and you may consider yourselves authorized to make such investigations as you see fit “I do not presume to advise you, but I want to ask you to take an old man’s Warning, and be sure of your proofs before you ad on them. Clues are often misleading; evidence may be false. But there are certain kinds of facts tftat point unmistakably to the truth. Those facts you must discover, and . then follow where they lead, irrespective of whom they may implicate •ad fcWtvfogs to any personal preju-l <tee.*L —A I aouldn’t help wondering if Mr. suspicion that either Mr. Crane or Mbs Gardiner, or both, know more tragedy than they had yet

burglar, but some past acquaintance of Philip’s who had some strong motive for .ending the boy’s existence. “It was some'one whom Phillip knew and recognized. The motive he did not know, for he was both surprised and grieved that this individual should intend to kill him.” , With that we parted. Mr. Hunt went home, and I went back to Maxwell Hall. 1 mulled over the Inkstand question until I felt as if my own brains were addled, and I finally fell asleep resolving to make the solution of that puzzle my definite work for the next day As a beginning, I begged Dr. Sheldon to allow me a short interview with Mildred. He readily granted this. In my talk with Mildred she repeated the statements she had made the day before, and she seemed so entirely herself and so sure of her memory, that I had no reasonable ground to doubt her assertions. “Are you sure, Miss Leslie,” I asked, “that you really threw that inkstand? Might you not have intended to throw it without doing so?” She looked at me in amazement. o “Certainly, I’m sure I threw it,” she said. “I distinctly remember picking it up and throwing it at the man. It did not hit him; it fell short of him, for it was heavier than I thought. “So then I threw the bronze horse at him. That was heavy, too, and it struck the thick rug with a soft thud. That didn’t hit him either; I never could throw things very well. But I scarcely knew what I was doing, and my acts were impulsive. “When I entered the room,” I said, “the inkstand was undisturbed on the desk, and the bronze horse also. Mildred looked utterly blank. “I think,” she said, “I have as much reason to doubt your statements as you have to doubt mine. For I know I throw' those things I positively threw those things just as I have described to you, and if, which sterns impossible, they were returned .to the desk, it was done by other hands than mine, either human or supernatural.” This interview made me more than ■ever determined to solve this, mystery before going any further. I went in search of some of the servants and learned that the library had not beeii swept since Monday night, and that the maid who dusted it distinctly remembered seeing the bronze paper weight in its usual place, and also asserted that the large inkstand was undisturbed, and that it did not need refilling. (With this new knowledge, or rather, with this corroboration of previously attested statements, I went to the library, determined to discover something, if I had to remain there all day. (To be Continued.)