Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 129, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 May 1913 — Page 3

The Cases of Alice Clement

True Stories of the World’s Greatest Woman Sleuth as Told by Herself to Courtney Riley Cooper

The Clue on the Keys

Vi suppose,” I had begun, “chance often plays a big M part in the catching of criminals.” Miss Clement and I were (■rff J chatting between acts at one of the theaters. She allowed her eyes to narrow a bit “Chance has a great deal to do with it, in a way,” she answered. “There is many a time when chance will give you the lead to a criminal, but it tabes the detective instinct to worltthe case up to where the man or woman may be caught.. And it is not everyone that will take advantage of the chance when it is offered. That is why there «re so few really great detectives. Not. every person can see the opportunity in a small chance. And then again,” ehe added, “there are those who •can.*’ : y “Including yourself,” I supplemented. “Well,” she laughed, “I had no busi~*ess in the case, and to tell the truth,. I've never been credited with it over *t headquarters; What’s more, I don’t -care to be. When I know I’ve done my best, what’s the difference? But bere’s the story. “It was about four years ago, just before I went on the force as a regular detective. I had been taking a few assignments from the office, and ■on this particular night I was looking for an army deserter. I had the information that he was going to meet a girl in a parlor of one of the small hotels, and so I made up my mind that 1 would be waiting about the same time. “Well, I went and waited. No one came. I wandered around the room for a while and finally sat down at the piano. I had just started, to play when something on one of the keys caused me to stop. I looked closer. It was a tiny spot of blood. But that had no connection with my deserter, nor was there anything else to cause any excitement So I went on with my playing, waited an hour or so for my deserter to show up, and then gave up the quest until I could get some new information. I was just leaving the hotel when I met one of the men from the central office. ~ “ ‘What are you doing over here?’ he asked. ‘Working on the killing, too?’ “‘What killing?’ I asked. It was news to me. “ ‘Woman found dead up in her room here about 6 o’clock tonight. Skull fractured by a blow. Some chantey singer or something like that, but we haven’t been able to find out her name yet. Don’t you know anything about it?’ - “ ‘No,’ I answered, ‘but I think I’m going to find out something mighty soon. I’ve got a little tip that may help you. What did you say her business was, case singer?’ “ ‘Yes, one of these chantey girls that work around the country singing in chop suey cases. What do you hnow?’ , “I laughed at him. - f ‘"I may know a whole lot,* I answered, ‘and then I may not know anything. How long had the girl been dead?’ v '.• “‘About two hours when she was found.’ " "That would fcake.the killing about four o’clock. All right. Let’s see some of the house managers.’ “The central office man followed me rather blankly when I went to seek the house managers. I did not tell him what I had seen. I asked that all the bellboys who had been on duty that afternoon be summoned. When they arrived, I began to a"k questions. “ ‘Was the piano in the upper parlor played this afternoon?’ I asked. “One by one the bellboys thought it over. At last one answered in the affirmative. “ ‘What time was it?’ I questioned. ' “ ‘About four o’clock.’ * “ ‘Did you see who was playing?' “ ‘No.’ “ ‘Can you remember what it was that was being played V “For a good many moments the boy struggled with his memory. Then his lips puckered. “‘Can’t name it,’ he said, *but I think I can whistle it’ ‘“Go ahead.' He whistled a few bars then stopped. “ ‘That’s all I know.’ * ‘That’s enough,’ I turned to go. ‘I guess I’ve got about all that's get-, table. ' Don’t you think so?’ I looked at the central office man. “1 can’t see that you’ve got anything,’ he said. ‘I can’t see where piano playing’s going to help us out any. Now stop that smiling and tell me what you’ve got up your sleeve.’ “I was smiling, too, because I had made up my mind to act mysterious with him. But at that, I had figured out a few facts in my mind.” “ ‘l’ll make a little bet,’ I said, ‘that the room wasn’t robbed.’ “ ‘You’re right there, but how—’ "TH bet also that a man did the work.' “‘Why, he had to. A woman couldn’t have struck the blow that he did.’ * ‘And I'll bet that he stayed la this

CCopyrigbt,.by W. G. Chapman.)

hotel fully ten minutes after he had killed the girl. But we’ll have to prove that later on. When you get him, you’ll probably find him of a jealous, hysterical, emotional temperament Want to make a few bets?’ "My Central Office man was staring at me with bulging eyes. “ ‘Say, he asked, ‘what are you trying to do, kid me?’ , “ 'Not a bit of it I’m just figuring out a few things.’ ‘“But you’re not wise to all this stuff?’ " ‘I just said that I was figuring out a few things. A woman caa sometimes do that, Jim. I’ll tell you, for your own information, that the music the bellboy whistled was Quand L’Amour est Mort.’ “ ‘Whatever that is.’ « ’“lt’s .French for "When Love Is Dead,” Now are you beginning to see?’ “‘Plain as mud.’ “I allowed myself to grow serious then. 1 knew that I was working on a mighty slim amount of evidence. That bloodstain might have come on the keys in a hundred different ways—and yet, there was that peculiar coincidence that the room was not robbed, making the motive for killing something besides greed; there was the fact that no doubt the killing was done by a man, and if it was donq_.by him, the motive must have been vengeance of some kind, or jealousy. And bo, in sjpite of my misgivings, I felt rather certain in my own heart that tiie man who had played the piano was the same one who had killed the girl. But with that, I had not progressed so very far, and I knew it. So I turned to the detective. “ ‘Jim,’ I said, 'l’ve got a little hunch on this thing. It may be right, and then again it may all be wrong. I’m going out to look up a little angle. You go ahead and see what you can find out and then we’ll get together again, later on.’ “It was still early, too early for the work that I wanted to do, and so I started to my house to attend to an important duty of the night, the tucking away in bed of my little kiddie, and giving her the good-night kiss. That’s one thing I never can forget, my home life and the little kiddie there. It keeps me from risking many things that I might risk—and the keeping away from those risks has saved me more times than one. It’s not best to be top foolhardy in this business. “And so I went out home, stayed there and sang the little girl to sleep and then I hurried downtown again. It wag far after ten,by this time and my work was about to begin. “I had changed my dress. I had rouged my cheeks and blackened my eyebrows. My lips bore a coating of carmine. I was a burlesque ‘queen,’ in from a long run of ‘tank towns’ and taking a first good look at a big city after many months of absence. And, of course, I was traveling as fast as was possible. "The loop district was my first stop. Qafe after case I entered, to linger a while, watch the crowds and listen to the music, and then take my cab again for another place. Gradually the loop district was worked. I started south, down toward the line of cafe4 which fringed Michigan avenue and lower State street A moment or two I spent in each place, but finally there came one at which I lingered, “The piano player was ol a different type from the ordinary men who worked In the orchestras. There was something about his eyes that a veritable craze for music. Tall, slender, yet strong, his body swayed with the rhythm of the melody he played, his head shook with the thumping of the keys, while his whole soul seemed entwined In the music he was pounding forth. Something within my brain snapped. I suddenly became nervous as I watched him. I felt that I was shaking with a Sensation I could not fathom. There was something about that man which made me desire to seize him, to drag him from that piano and force him to a police .station. I guess there’s a lot of intuition In me, I don’t know. Just the same, I felt that the cabman outside, would not havd“ to carry me any farther; If my theory was any good at all, here was the person to try working it out on. p “ ‘Waiter,’ I called, and handed him a slip of paper, ‘take this to the pianist, please.’ “The waiter obeyed. I watched the man at the Instrument as he turned quickly and received the message from the negro. He gazed at the words I had written and started slightly. Then he raised his head, looked in my direction and smiled. I could see his lips move. It seemed that they said ’certainly.’ On, the paper I had written ’Please play‘“Quand L’Amor est Mort”' “He hesitated a moment as be turned to the piano again, and it seemed that there swept over him a feeling of revulsion. Then, almost by force, the hands were placed on the keys and the music began. For a moment it seemed ragged and untimely. Then,

as the swing broke its way into his heart, everything changed. Pealing, almost thundering forth at times, plaintive, appealing, the notes trickling out like tiny brooks at other moments, he brought from that tinpanny piano a harmony that was almost divine. The loud chatter and brazen laughter of yhe case ceased. Men and women turned in their chairs to listen and td watch the better. Half drunken men leered silently; others who had gone farther into the cups that sometimes cheer and sometimes breed melancholy, began to -weep ,on each others’ shoulders and to apologize for all past misdeeds, real and fancied. Bar after bar, on went .the music. Stronger, then .weaker, rising and falling, the piece was played. It seemed that the pianist had lost every bit of knowledge of the World around him. He was now buried within himself, in a sphere apart I looked at his face. lined and furrowed. The eyes had in them the appearance of intense suffering. I believed’ that I saw a tear drop to the keys. Silently, I rose from my table and left the case. “It was nearly midnight when I found my man from the Central office. He had learned nothing new. Clues there were, qf course, but those already investigated had turned forth nothing. He told his story and then looked' questionably at me. ” ‘What do you know?’ he asked. “‘I know our man, Jim. I feel sure of it,’ I answered; ‘but he’s a queer one, just as I said. And. I think there’s only one way to make him own up. You can’t start his passions much otherwise. I’m afraid that we’re going to have to act a bit theatrical. That room up there where the girl was found dead has not been, changed much, has it?’ “ ‘The body has been taken away.’ ‘“I know that, but otherwise?* “’No. Why?’ “‘See if the room next to it is var cant And find out if there is a connecting door.’ “T know that already.’ The detective grinned. ‘And you can bet that all the rooms around it are vacant What do you want?’ “‘I want a piano moved Into the room where the murder occurred, and I want some one who will be brave enough to stay in there and play it Can you get him?’ “His eyes bulged again. “ ‘What are you trying to—’ “He looked at me blankly a moment, then moved away. In ten minutes he was hack. “Tve got It all fixed. Now, what do we do?’ “ ‘Make the arrest. Come on.’ “On the way I explained things, and in an hour we had our musician in the room adjoining the one in which the murder had been committed. We had taken him into the hotel in a manner that left him in the dark as to exactly where he was going. It was plain that he did not recognize the surroundings. The door to the # girl’s room was closed. Jim began on him. “ ‘Now, my friend, what’s your name?’ N ‘“Thomas Withers.* “That, of course,” explained Miss Clement, "wasn’t his name. One thing I do not like to do is to tell the real name of a man whose case has been through my hands. Of course, he can’t be hurt, hut there are others who have remained behind whom It can injure, and so”—she studied the face of a woman in a nearby box and went on —"well, I just don’t like to do it. “Jim continued: “ ‘They say at the case that you came to this city from Pittsburgh. Is that true?’ “ ‘Yes, but I don’t see why you are questioning me, or. why # you have brought me here. If you’ve got any charge to make against me, why don’t you take me to a police station. I ’ “ ‘That’ll be about enough of that,’ Jim interrupted. *You’ll see the inside of a station soon enough. Now, where’s that girl that came here with you?’ “Withers whirled. Then his face set. “ There wasn’t any girl,’ he snapped. “ ‘Wasn’t there? Are you sure about that? You came here with her, then you? told her that you didn’t care for her any more and that she could go. Isn’t that the truth?’ “Withers did not answer. “ ‘You told her that you were fond of another and that she could get out of the way. Answer me!’ "Still no response came from the man before us. Jim fidgeted in his chair. “ ‘You’re going to talk before I get through with you,’ he threatened, ‘and you might as well make up your mind to that right now. What was that girl’s name?’ " There wasn’t any girl.’ ‘“You've said that before. Now I want something different. What was that girl’s name?* “ There ’ “ ‘Don’t start that again. You know there was a girl and that you quit loving her and that she balked on the game. She knew something on you, didn’t she?’ Withers seemed to shift in his chair a bit. ‘She knew something on you and she was gelng to tell the other woman about it Isn’t that the truth; isn’t itr “Withers looked at Jim with dull eyes. His hands clasped and unclasped nervously. He ran his tongue about bn his dry lips. He raised his head as if he were choking. But be gave forth no sound. Jim's face grew red. " ’You’re going to tell me the truth,’ he bellowed. ‘And you're going to do it right now. Now, you answer my questlonsl’ “Withers again looked at the detective and then looked at me.

“ 'What do you want to know?’ he asked at last, rather sullenly. ’Ask me something I can tell you about and I’ll talk to you. I don’t know anything about this business you’re going so wild about. There isn’t any girl, and suppose there was, what of itr " ‘You’ve killed her, that’s all,’ answered Jim. "Withers started in his chair. His eyes gjrew a bit furious, then calmed. ‘“You are mistaken,’ he said ly“I motioned to Jim and he reached gently down by the side of his chair, pulled a cord that had been laid along the floor and into the next room. Then he turned, allowed the scowl to fade from his face, and sat smiling at the prisoner. “For a moment there was silence, and then, from a distance, there began to drift the tones of a plaintiff melody. Slowly 'it began, and softly. Gradually the tones grew in strength and seemed to float into the silent room from a hundred scources at once. I saw Withers look* up, I saw him gaze about him in astonishment Then his head dropped. “Gradually, ever and ever more intense, the music grew. Withers edged forward a bit in his chair and folded bis arms. I could see that his head wared a trifle with the action of the music. His face grew saddened. “'“Quand l’Amour est Mort”,’ he mused. ,

MINE ROMANCES IN BRITISH COLUMBIA

//AEEKING for treasure.” The • words are as a magnet in the power they have over the minds of men. Let an explorer come home to tell of gold mines, of gems, and of pearls to he found in some region of utter desolation, amid peril, discomfort and solitude, and the great and small, gentle and simple rush in thousands overseas 'in pursuit of the golden spoil. Perhaps nowhere has the romance of seeking treasure been kept so actively alive as in the northern gold-produc-ing regions of North America. Even stranger than fiction is the tale told by Charles McLeod, as Edmonton prospector, who, while leading a party of gold-seekers through the wastes of the northwest section of British Columbia, stumbled over the bones of his two brothers and hit upon a location of auriferous quartz now bringing him in a colossal fortune. One night In 1908, while “making camp” with his fellow-prospectors, McLeod found traces of an old campfire in the forest nearby, and in idle curiosity began to scrape among the ashes and bids of charred wood, presently to find on the trunk of a pine near at hand an inscription consisting of the date, “May, 1905,” and the initials of bis two brothers, who had been missing for several years. Later on, the discovery was made of two skeletons under a tree a little distance off the trail, and not far from the tree McLeod picked up a watch, which he at once recognized as having belonged to his brother Frank. On the trees In the vicinity being closely examined a “blazed” trunk was found with much carving, but very few of the words were readable. Near the foot of the tree McLeod managed to make out sufficient to lead him to believe that a complete deciphering would probably mean his fortune. The words that had remained decipherable referred to the locating of a gold "shaft," but the murderers, who were presumed to have been Indians, had net only taken the precautions to remove from their victims all means of identification, but had also cut the tree in such a manner as to make the carving unintelligible. Near

HE BURST FORTH INTO WILD SO BBING.

“ ‘An echo,’ said Jim, ‘of the same piece you played in the parlor of the hotel this afternoon.’ “Withers turned sharply. “ l I don’t—-’ he began. “ ‘Oh, yes you do,’ Jim returned, and the smile still rested on his face. Then again he lapsed Into silence, while he and I watched the man before us. “The music was growing more passionate, more pleading, even more melancholy. Once it was played through, then again. Withers rocked in his seat. I could see that the tears were beginning to start from his eyes. I could see too that here was a music maniac, that his whole being, just as I bad judged, was ruled by music, and by one bit in particular. At last he rose and began to pace about the room. He patted his hands nervously. His shoulders rocked. ‘“Who’s playing that?’ he asked, as he stopped nervously for a second. “ ‘The girl you killed, probably,’ answered Jim with a smile. “A toss of the head, an angry glint out of his eyes, and Withers had turned to his pacing again. Still the full-toned notes were hurrying into the room, flooding it, filling it with their eloquence. More and more they were having their effect on Withers. His eyes were growing wild. The nervousness was becoming more and more marked. ‘“Who’s playing that?’ he asked again in an agitated voice. ‘Who’s playing that?’

at hand, however, McLeod chanced on a shaft, which had apparently been sunk in recent years and from which a considerable quantity of gold had been extracted. Subsequently some Indians claimed that they had sunk this shaft, but the matter was determined in McLeod’s favor. At the present day the prospectors’ camps in southwest Oregon are haunted by a little old man, who seldom comes In, and who when approached threatens with his rifle and then slinks off into the tall timber and scrub at hand. The camp to which he attaches himself he watches most carefully, following one man after another as they leave to look for game. _ Something like thirty years ago this ghost-like man was a stout, strong, young German, who came into Oregon to seek gold. He did find a very valuable "prospect,” and bad begun to work It when the Indians surprised him. His one companion was killed, but the young man escaped and made h!s way to Rogue river, still hugging some pieces of auriferous quartz. It was years before he came back with money enough to reopen his mine, the knowledge of which had made him rich during all the weary time of hard work and self-denial when he was laying up the “grubstake” which was to keep him from the necessity of sharing bis wealth with a partner. But he could not find his mine! The frost and the snow, a landslip or two, and the overflowing of the cascading stream had .obliterated his landmarks. At last, his money being exhausted, he told others of his mine and showed them the specimens which he had kept by him all the years. The miners of southwest Oregon are tired now of Looking for the lost mine, but the German still moves about the bills in a state of fear lest any one should find before he does the “Crazy Dutchman^tnine.” In the early days of the Yukon goldseekers much search was made for an alluvial source from which the Indiana, early in the nineteenth century, must have obtained the gold dust which for a time they disposed of to trappers, the Hudson Bay company and others. One morning a prospector, Joe Carver, when camping with an Indian hunter, was told by him that, seeing the rising sun gleam on the rocks, qt the base of which ran a stream, brought to his memory that the place had been called by his forefathers the “Rocks of Gold.” Bearch revealed the great hoard which Nature had been accumulating in the bed or the stream there for Innumerable centuries.

“1 told you,’ said Jim. ‘Open that door.’ "Almost with a rush, Withers went to the door that led into the next room. Hurriedly he threw It open and started to rush within. Then be recoiled. He staggered. His hands went before his eyes and be reeled backward. Only the bare room was before him, bare except for the evidences of the struggle of the afternoon, of the evidences of death. The piano was not to be seen. “ ‘You—— ’ he screamed. *You ’ “Jim leaped to his feet and seized him. ‘“Now will you confess,’ he urged. ‘Now wHI you say that you did it? What was her name? What was her name? Answer me; answer me!’ “Slowly the head bent downward. • The shoulders shook, It seemed with sobs. “ ‘Heloise,’ came the broken answer. ’Yes —I did it—but I did love her—it was because of that—she had decided to quit me and I—l ’ He hurst forth into wild sobbing. “And that,” concluded Miss element 1 , “is about all there is to the story. You see, we had taken the precaution to have the piano put into a deep closet in the room. Somewhat ghostly, I’ll admit, but it worked well” She turned the pages of her program. "What are the good songs in the next act?” she asked interestedly.

About eight years ago Isaac Newton Fowler, a Brooklyn man, while hunting In Chihuahua, Mexico, found an old tunnel, the mouth of which had been walled up at some remote time. There was the usual local tradition of a lost mine In the neighborhood, worked by the Spaniards of old and abandoned by them in consequence of the hostility of the Apaches. The discoverers qf the walled-up tfinnel decided this was It, and have found It to be an exceedingly paying one. A still richer find was that of a prospector on the Mexican side of the Rio Grande, near Fort Hancock, Tex. An old “dump” of worked rock had been there so long that nobody knew who had taken the rock out Not even a tradition was associated with It A prospector interested capitalists, and the old workings were reopened. On the face of the hill being cleared for the tunnel, the miners were surprised to find a solid wall of masonry, laid in cement, and so hard that they had to blow it down by means of dynamite. Once through this wall they discovered a tunnel that a few feet further on was closed by a massive door of hardwood logs fastened by a huge lock of antique Spanish workmanship. They broke in and found that the tunnel ran about 400 feet to a breast of ore many timee richer than any found for many yean. A revolution or Indian rising had probably caused the mine to be abandoned, and the workers with the characteristic subtlety of their time had hidden the bonanza, leaving exposed only the waste product on the surface.

To Much for Him.

"Why George, what a condition yon are In! Where have you been?” "It’s all ri’. Been to say goo’ bye to Charlie Scrapple.” “Where’s Charlie going?" “Charlie’s going to gllrdle th’ globe.** “What?” "Olrbal th’ globe.” , "Say It slowly.” “Global tb’ gird.” “Once morV’ “He’s going round th’ earth In eighty days! What’s th’ matter with yon?" "Ah, he’s going to girdle the globe, is he? Well, yen girdle your way tobed.” —Cleveland Plain Dealer. 1'

Astonishment In Baltimore.

It Is bard to say whether the marketmen or the clubwomen of Baltimore were the more surprised when an Investigating committee of -the women found that in several of the markets the scales were giving more than sixteen ounces of meat to the pound.—Boston Herald. *