Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 239, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 October 1912 — THE MAXWELL MYSTERY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE MAXWELL MYSTERY

(Copyright, The Frank A Munsey Co.) • CHAPTER XI. At Last. The next morning, although Fleming Stone was the same affable, courteous gentleman that he had been the night before, yet there was a shade more of seriousness, in his manner. He spoke cheerfully, but it seemed to be with an effort, and I felt a vague sense of an impending disaster which might be worse than anything that had gone before. After breakfast Mr. Hunt came over and in the fateful library he was introduced to Fleming Stone. I was present at their interview, and I was glad to see that the two mqn at once assumed cordial attitudes and seemed prepared to work together harmoniously. Our discussion in the library did not last long, but it was exceedingly business-like and! to the point. Without losing a shade of graceful politeness, Fleming Stone showed also the quick working of his direct, forceful mind. He approved of all that Hunt and I had done. In a few words he commended our methods and accepted

our results. Then in silence he scrutinized the library. He rose to examine the rug and the window casing and then he stepped out on the balcony to look at the footmarks of which I had told him. These latter were very faint and he took a large magnifying glass from his pocket and examined them carefully and seemed satisfied with what he found.

Returning to the library he took the wastepaper basket from under the examined its contents. It was empty save for a few scraps of paper which I had thrown there myself the day before, but I saw his action with a sudden shock of dismay. Neither Hunt nor I had thought of looking in the waste basket, and, though I had no definite hope of anything to be found there, it was a chance we ought not to have lost. “Did Mr. Philip Maxwell ever letters in this room?” asked Mr. Stone. “Sometimes he did,” I replied, “but more often he wrote down in his uncle’s study.” “But he might have opened letters and read them here?” “Yes, he used this desk a great deal.”

“Where are the papers from the waste baskets thrown?” “I don’t know, Mr. Stone, but the servants can tell you. Shall I call the maid who attends to the cleaning of this room?” “I wish you 'would do so; then we will consider this' Consultation at an end. Ido not wish to be unduly secret about my plans, but I must work uninterrupted today, for I think developments will come thick and fast.” Mr. Hunt and I left the library, and I at once sent the maid to Mr. Stone as he had requested. Less than 15 minutes later I saw him coming up from the cellar. “I found a paper that is a most important link m our chain. Will you look at it a moment?” “Yes,” I replied, and in Philip’s well known characters I read: At last I have discovered the, truth, and it has broken my heart Even now I could not believe it, but your The writing stopped abruptly, and the letter had evidently been thrown

aside unfinished. I restrained my intense curiosity and did not ask to see the name at the head of the letter, hut apparently Fleming Stone divined my thoughts. x ' “You will know only too soon,” he said with that sad note in his voice that always thrilled me. “Now I am going to see Mies Leslie.”

It was shortly before noon that I went for a walk with Irene Gardiner. As we went away I saw Mr. Stone and Miss Miranda Maxwell in the music room. She was knitting some fleecy white thing, and, though she looked sad, she was calm and unexcited. They seemed to be chatting cosily, and yet I felt sure that Fleming Stone was learning some details about Philip’s life or character which he considered important. Miss Gardiner and I walked down the path to the river. As was inevitable we talked only of the all-absorbing topic, and especially of Fleming Stone.

“He is fascinating,” declared Irene. “I have never met any one who seemed so attractive at first sight.” I quite agreed with her, but I was suddenly conscious of an absurd pang of jealousy. I was beginning to think that Irene Gardiner was pretty nearly necessary to the happiness of my life, and this avowed interest of hers in another man spurred me to a sudden conclusion that I cared for her very much indeed.

But this was no time or place to tell her so. At the Maxwells’ invitation she had decided to remain at the Hall with the Whitings until Mildred was able to travel to New York. Dr. Sheldon had said that the journey high safely be taken about the middle of the following week. I had made my plans to go at the same time, but in View of the rapid developments of the past two days I had unmade those plans and had made no others. “Doesn’t it seem strange,” said Irene, “that you and I wer§ talking about crime and criminals on the way down here last week? How little we thought that we were coming straight to a tragedy.” “It is a tragedy,” I said, “and it may prove even more of a one than we yet know. Irene, if Gilbert didn’t shoot Philip, have you any idea who did?” “No,” she said, looking at me with a candor in her which left no room for doubt. “No, I have not the faintest idea. And yet I cannot believe Gilbert did It I never liked him, but he does not seem to me capable of crime. “And yet you hold the theory that, given an opportunity, we are all capable of crime.” , “I know I said that, and it does seem true in theory, but it is hard to believe in an individual case.” “First I was convinced of his innocence by his own attitude. A simple assertion might be false, but Gilbert’s look and voice and manner told far more than his words. No criminal could have acted as he did. “Fleming Stone says he knows that Gilbert is not guilty, and, moreover, he knows who is.” “He knows who is!” exclaimed Irene. “Who can it be?” “I don’t know; but I am sure from what Mr. Stone said that it is some one whom we all know and whose conviction will not only surprise but sadden us.”

We walked back, chatting in a lighter vein, and somehow my heart sank when I saw Fleming Stone sitting alone on the veranda. It may have been imagination or perhapsintuition, but as soon as I saw him I felt a conviction that he had accomplished his work and that we would soon know the result “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said as I went toward him. Irene went into the house and Mr. Stone continued: “I have discovered everything, and I want you to be prepared for a sad revelation.” “Did you learn anything from your interview with Miss Leslie?” I asked impulively. “Nothing more than I knew before I saw her,” he replied, and his inscrutable face gave me no glimmer of information. “It is almost 1 o’clock,” he went on, "'and after luncheon I will tell you all. I have asked Mr. Hunt to be present, and you will both please meet me in the library at 2 o’clock.” Somehow the sad foreboding that had taken possession of me made me glad of even an hour’s further respite. I went to the luncheon table, and made my bravest endeavor to seem my natural self. But a depressing cloud seemed to hang over us all. Although each one tried to be cheerful, the efforts were far from being entirely successful. Even Mr. Maxwell seemed disturbed. Indeed, Miss Mir? anda was most placid of all, tod I felt sure that was due to the calming effect of Mr. Stone’s kindly consideration for her. At last the meal was over, and, unable to keep up the strain any longer, I went at once to the library and awaited the others. Mr. Hunt came first “Have you any Idea of the disclosure Mr. Stone Is about to make ” he said

to me. “No,” said I; “I think I can truthfully say I haven’t” “He has asked Dr. Sheldon to be here by 2:30,” said Hunt. Again my thoughts flew to Mildred Leslie, but I said Then Fleming Stone came into the room. There was sadness still in his eyes, but he had again assumed that alert official air which characterized his professional moments. “Gentlemen,” said, “I came down here, as you know, an absolute stranger and entirely unprejudiced. I have listened to various accounts of the crime; I have weighed the evidence offered to me; I have made investigations on my own accountand drawn my own deductions. “I have the character and dispositions of all persons known to be in the vicinity of Philip Maxwell at the time of his death; have pondered over the possible motive for the crime, and, from the facts learned as a result of my investigation and consideration, I have discovered the murderer. ■ r ’"Gentlemen, Philip Maxwell was shot by his uncle, Mr. Dudley Maxwell!” - (To Be Concluded.)