Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 129, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 May 1913 — HE BURST FORTH INTO WILD SO BBING. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HE BURST FORTH INTO WILD SO BBING.

“ '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. ,

“ ‘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?’

“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.