Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 149, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 June 1913 — The Cases of Alice Clement [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Cases of Alice Clement

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

A Woman’s Wiles

(Copyright, by W* O. Chapman*)

k PRING time in Lincoln Park, Chicago, means duetic gatherings on the gS39Bk) benches, wandering cquP les along the paths, jnflßpWt whirring motor cars on £byVw]£>s3 the smooth Lalfc Shore drive, and happiness air most everywhere. And as we strolled along we were watching amusedly the ones who felt themselves in a little world apart as they talked foolishness into each other’s ears. The fact that it was day did not seem to make much difference. The little woman detective who strolled beside me smiled at the couples about üb, then turned her gaze to the rolling lake, where, in the distance, a lumbering freighter was lazily dipping into, the horizon. “When Love is young in springtime ’’ 1 quoted. Alice Clement, •off for a half holiday from her work as a catcher of criminals for the city of Chicago, laughed and then watched for a moment my idle occupation of driving small pebbles along the pathway with my stick. “Love is young pretty much of the time,” she said at last. “And the younger it gets more fool things it will make a person do. That’s the trouble with it, you never can count •on just what the outcome is going to be. I don’t look like a woman who •could cause a murder, do I?” • I stopped short at the remark, then gazed at her. Trimly dressed, her young, almost girlish face looking up with that happy smile on the full, red lips, the deep brown eyes sparkling —well, it would have been hard to imagine what anyone except some olc| married man like myself would do, and" I said so. She laughed softly—and was silent. Soon the happy, expression seemed to leave her face, and a bit of sadness came in its place. We had found a bench in & spot where the warm sun was good, and near where an energetic squirrel was practicing its calisthenics upon the trunk of a budding tree. I waited for her to speak, and, waiting in vain, prompted her. “A romance?” “Just a detective assignment," she answered. “Where love played the wrong way a long time, and then turned right just at the proper moment Don’t bother to remember the names;, I’m going to change them. “It was not so long after I had made my entrance into the detective world and I was eager for every case. lam still eager, for that matter, but you know how it is, when one is young in the business. One morning I received a summons to detective headquarters.

"Alice,” said the captain, "we’re going to need you and your smile, Here’s a picture of Clayton Rogers. The bureau wants him for a $5,000 embezzlement. I think he’s gone to St. Louis, but, I can’t be sure. You’d better run down there and locate him. "But I did not take the next train to St. Louis and\rely on my ingenuity to find my man in a city of half a million people. A story-book detective might have done that, but I’m only an ordinary city sleuth, and so I did the logical thing. I went o\it and saw • Clayton’s mother, I was an old Bweetheart and that I was crying my heart out for a word from my own dear boy. And quite naturally, I learned that he really was in Si Louis, working in a bindery plant there —which one she did not know. That, however; was a better lead than nothing, and so the next morning found me in the city on the Mississippi. “My work was ahead of me. I had studied that picture until every line of it was ipdelibly pressed Into my brain. And many a time while studying I had said sharp little things about Mr. Clayton Rogers because he had not had his photograph taken for twelve years. This proposition of trying to figure out how a man will look after so many years is not an easy thing. But I did the best I could. “One by one l took the binderies, four to a day. In the early morning I would watch the employes coming to work. At noon I would watch others going and coming. At night I would stand by some building to keep my eyes on the outpouring string from book and publishing houses. And at last there came a bit of hope into my heart. "A man had passed within three feet of me, a man with eyes of Just the sort I believed those of Rogers to be. There was something about the expression of his face that was like that of Rogers, too. There was a chance it was not he; there was Just as great a chance that I had found my man. I determined to find out. "The next morning there was a new girl on one of the book binding machines in the great workroom where the man I believed ,1 wanted was stationed. Simply dressed, yet as prettily as possible in keeping with a wage of eight dollars a week, I had set out to play a game of hearts. Clayton Rogers liked women. 1 had learned that And if this was the mgn ” Jhe old freighter was lowering itself farther and farther into the horlson now. The squirrel had approached closely and was regarding ns with

curious eyes. Alice Clement was thoughtful. “Perhaps you've never worked in a book bindery,” .she said, “and I don’t guess you have. And perhaps, too, you’ve never been hoping and hoping that your lead was right, only to be assured day after day that you were on the wrong trail. That was my situation. Clayton liogers was a flirt A pretty woman, to him, was the only thing in the world. More than once in the days that followed my entrance. to the bindery I allowed myself to smile at him out of the corner of an eye, but never a glance returned. I turned to the other employes, “I learned that, as far as they knew, he was a young farmer from Franklin county who had just come to the city to learn the book binding trade. He was sober. He was industrious.. He was quiet. The real Clayton Rogers was none of these three. It began to impress me more and more that I was tracking the wrong man. “ ‘When did he come here?’ I asked of the girl who was giving me the information—without knowing why, of course. “ ‘A month ago,’ came the answer. « “A month ago! That was exactly a week after Rogers had fled Chicago. -“‘Where from?’ “ ‘Labaddie.’ “That night I boarded a train for the small Missouri town. The next afternoon I was back at my work, with a bit of reassurance in my heart. At least, Labaddie did not possess a young man of his appearance and of the name by which he was entered on the books of the company. I smiled at him again that day as he passed from his work to get a drink of water. My heart thumped. He had stopped and was gazing at me. “ ‘You weren’t at work this morning,’ he said gravely. “‘I was ill,’ I answered as innocently I could, and looked down at my work again. “He passed on, and my best wishes went with him, for 1 knew that it would not be long before I found out whether or not I was trailing a man I had recognized from a picture twelve years old. We met to speak a few words the next day—the next and the next. ‘ “One night he took me to a vaudeville show and then escorted me to the little room I had rented —and there left me to wonder and wonder again if I was not wrong. If this man was Clayton Rogers he had changed every filament of his character. Grave, thoughtful, polite, he was different from the man who had been described to me and who had spent }5,000 among the white lights of Chicago. And yet ” There was a little pause while Miss Clement watched the sober yet happy faces of two lovers across the velvet lawp. yet?" I prompted. “And yet, even as he told about his home life, as hd described the country ardund Labaddie, the house, everything, I remembered what the people there had said. I must be on the right track! I sat alone in my room that night, trying to dissect his every action, to see behind his every move, and failed. I knew that it would have been possible for a mistake in Labaddie, and yet I felt that I was sure of everything I had learned there. I had three weeks more in which to work. I determined to make the most of It. “It was a few nights after that that

Mr. Henderson (that was the name on the company’s books) asked me once more to go to the theater with him. And that night, as we stood by my door to sajr goodby, he paused. “ ’Miss Wilson,’ he began calling me, of course, by my assumed name, ‘I know you’ll think it’s forward of me and all that, but there’s something I can’t hold back from you. any longer. I ’ "My heart Jumped. " 'You are a gentleman,’ I answered him. ‘I have seen nothing forward? in your actions.’ " 1 have tried to be a gentleman,’ he answered, ‘simply for the reason that since the first moment I saw you in the shop, I fell in love with you. Spme way, you don't look like the ordinary girl who works in a bindery shop. There’s something better about you,' something more refined. I hope you’re not angry.’ ‘“Why should I be?’ I questioned seriously, ‘I ’ " ‘Miss Wilson!' He had stepped toward me anxiously. ‘‘l put him off. "It is not love on my part,’ I answered. T think a great deal of you. Mr. Henderson, but i cannot say that I love you—yet’ * “ ‘But there is hope?’ he asked with a queer little pang in his voice. “ ‘ln time,’ I answered. "He left And then I went into my room to mentally becudgel myself for not having pulled everything from him while his heart was warm with excitement when- his lips would have been willing to speak of everything, to confess everything. I walked the floor and scowled at myself in the mirror. I saw, all too late, a thousand ways in which I might have drawn from him every truth of his Identity. I could have played him. I could have forced

him, by the light kind of questioning, to have told everything. And I had let the chance slip! "The next morning my feeling of remorse was worse. I took my place at my machine and looked about me. He was absent An hour passed and still he did not come Two hours. Three. Things blurred before me. Something had happened to take him a why. Now, as never I had felt before there came the conviction that this man was not Henderson, that he did not live at Labaddie, but that he was Clayton Rogers, the man I was hunting, and that his place was in a penitentiary for theft. £ went to the foreman. “‘I had an engagement with Mr. Henderson. He was going to show me something about the work. He is not here. Is he ill?’ I asked. “ ‘Drew his time this morning downstairs,’ the foreman answered. ‘He’s gone.’ "‘Gone?’ The words went through my brain like fire. Then he had understood last night. I had let some word drop that gave him the hint Perhaps he had heard from his mother, he had received the information of the old sweetheart who had sought him at the home—and he knew! I walked dazedly back to my machine and looked at its whirring belt. Then I took off my apron. “ ‘I am leaving,’ I told jthe foreman. ‘Give me my time.’” I happened to look into the face of Alice Clement just then. -I saw that in her memory she was suffering all that she had suffered at that moment in the bindery. I saw before me a woman whose brain was keen enough to suffer even in retrospection, and whose sensibilities were of that finely attuned strain that re-lives pain and sorrow, happiness and joy, again and again. She was speaking. “There was a chance left. I had* learned his address at least. A car was coming to a stop at the opposite corner and I ran for it. Twenty minutes later I was walking through the dark hall of a rooming house *to where the landlady said Mr. Henderson had his room. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I knocked again. There came from the inside the tread, tread of a man’s footsteps. I believed I heard a voice, as though someone was talking to himself. I ceased knocking. I put my ear to the keyhole and listened: “‘And, by God,Til kill him first;* “It was Henderson’s voice, brutal, tense. What was wrong, I did not know. One thing I realized, that something had happened, that now or never the truth would come out, that if this man was Clayton Rogers now was the time when I would learn It, and that action must be swift He might be drunk, he might be crazed with drugs. There was no time for me to get assistance; I must work and work fast I turned the knob of the door. It did not yield. I pulled a skeleton key from my bag and inserted it in the lock. I felt the bolt shift. A tremble ran through me as I reached for my revolver and hid it in a fold of my dress. Then, with a hurried push, I sent the door flying open. *•■

“A mad man -faced me. Eyes wide and staring, hair umkempt mouth low drdwn, and shaking, the man whom I sought stood before me. He had not slept, that was evident His hands shook. In one trembling claw he held a revolver. He started forward an I entered, the revolver half raised into the air, then recoiled. “‘You !’ he half screamed. ‘You! “I stood facing him. I tried to speak. I failed. The sight of the wreck of the man before me seemed to have taken my voice. He laid the revolver on the table, and springing toward me, seized me by a wrist. “‘What are you doing here?' he asked wildly. ‘Answer me! What are you doing here?’ / " ‘You were not at work,’ I answered as hastily, as I could. ‘I wondered what had become of you—they said you had left —I had a right to know —after what you said last night!’ "He broke away from me with a sob. s

“‘Yes, last night!’ he groaned. *Last night!’ \ "I approached him. “ ‘What has happened?’ I begged. ‘Can’t you tell me what it is that is weighing on you? Can’t you trust me?’ “The eyes that stared Into mine seemed glassy. “‘Tell you?’ he asked dully. ‘Tell you? The one person I wanted to keep it from? The one person ’ He broke off in a wild laugh. I felt my heart leap. Then he was Clayton Rogers! It was the time for me to play my game and play It hard. I rushed toward him. "‘Jim!’ I called to him in the name he had assumed, ‘why should you keep anything from me? I told you last night that I did not care,, that I could not care—l lied to you, Jim. I dft care—l care enough, so that no matter what may happen, no matter what you may have done or will do, I will still care. And now, won’t you tell me what it is that is worrying you? 'fron’t you, Jim?’ "He stood and looked at me for a moment His arms dropped weakly to his sides. When he spoke his voice was hoarse and choking. " ‘Blackmail,’ he said slowly. " ‘Blackmail?’ 1 asked. This was even new to me. "Yes, blackmail. I’ve got an enemy. He trailed me here from Chicago, found out I was going with you, and since then be has been bleeding me for every cent I possess, and Cod knows I’ve got little enough left now.’ "At last I had him. **’Chicago?* I asked with surprise in my voice, lly hand still gripped the

revolver. ‘What were you doing in Chicago?’ “He gave one wild look at me, whirled, walked toward the table on which his revolver lay, and then stopped stock still. “‘What was I doing in Chicago?’ A that was almost grewsome came to his face. ‘I was in Chicago because I lived there, because I worked there; because I stole money there and then ran away. There!’ He lifted his arms and his eyes grew more glassy than ever. ‘There’s the truth. You said you’d stick my me and I’ve told you. I stole money in Chicago and ran away. I came down here. One man knew it He followed me. He found out where I worked. He saw that I was beginning to care for you and then —then—’ the voice grew cracked, high pitched—‘then started bleeding me! And now, now I’ve stood all of it I’m going to stand. He’s taken away from me every chance I had In life; he’s robbed me, he’s stolen my every hope from me, he’s forced me to tell you what I had wanted to keep from you—and he’s going to pay for it!” “I seized his arm. " What do you mean by that?’ I felt that my voice was tense, too. “The wide eyes looked down at me with a fierce glint in them. With one trembling hand he patted mine. Then he whirled ’ and began to pace the floor. “ ‘What do you suppose I mean?’ he asked. He pointed to the revolver. ‘That’s what I mean! He’s coming here this afternoon for more money. I won’t have it. You know what he’ll do—he’ll run out of {his place and tell the ’

“Suddenly he stopped and looked at me. He Bmiled the least bit. but the corners of his mouth drooped cynically downward, and the eyes took on an evil look. “ ‘lm wondering about you.' he said at last, and then stood looking at me rather blankly. I felt my hand grip tighter than ever on my revolver, while I thought of the little kiddie that was waiting at home in Chicago for her mother —who stood right now in danger of never returning. I knew that my face had gone white, and that my heart was beating thumpingly, but still I faced him. “‘What are you wondering about me?’ I asked slowly. “He seemed to waver a bit. I could see that the nervous tension of many hours had begun to tell on him. Before me was a task—that of playing him until my chance could come, until I could find a way of subduing him. At last he spoke. “ ‘What have I been wondering about you?’ he asked. He advanced toward me. ‘l’ve been wondering if you’re not a schemer, too, if you haven't been set on my track to bound me down and —’ “‘Jim!’ I was before him now", with every possible emotion of pleading in my face. ‘Jim, you wouldn’t believe that of me, would you? You wouldn’t —you couldn’t! Jim, pull yourself together! You’ve got to keep your head about you. You can’t go all to pieces this way. Someone in the house will hear you through the door; they’ll learn—they’ll tell the police.’ “‘They’ll tell the police anyway— ’ he looked at the little clock on the wall—‘in Just twenty minutes. He will be here then, and when he walks in that door, I shoot!’ "‘You don’t mean that, Jim!’ " ‘When he walks in that door I shoot!’ he repeated. “Then he suddenly turned silent. For a moment he stood there, waving his head from side to side, something in the manner of a wild beast At last, with a sigh, he began to pace tho floor again, his eyes down, hla lower lip hanging. “Five minutes passed and neither of us spoke. Ten went by, and still there was silence in the rpom except for the pacing step of Uie man as be walked to and fro. his eyes glancing downward, his lips moving now and then, but wordless. Once he stopped and looked at the clock. " ‘Nqt long now,’ he said. “ ‘Jtm —’ I was really pleading now, with all the heart and soul that a woman can muster —‘you wouldn’t add that to other things, would you? Say you won’t—for me. We’ll find a way oat of this somehow, won—’

“He only shook his head. Suddenly he looked up and laughdd. “ ‘l’m tired of being called Jim. My name is Clayton Rogers.’ “ ‘Let’s forget that,’ I answered. ‘You are only Jim to me.’ “He stopped, patted my hands again and then began his pacing once more. Now he was silent as before, his head was once more lowered. Five minutes remained. I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering—and then, my brain cleared. The chance had come. As though he had forgotten me, he had turned, walked to the window, and was standing with his hands tightly clenched behind him. It was time for work —quick work! A portiere cord was hanging near. Noiselessly I released it and fashioned an end into a noose. Then slowly, talking to him all the time, I began to approach. * “He did not seem to hear—at least he gave no evidence. I was within five steps of him now. My revolver I had slipped into my pocket where the butt could hang in easy reach of my hand. The noose was extended, ready to be Blipped over the waiting hands. “Two steps more and I would be with him. I coughed, that I might cover the sound of my steps. I dared say nothing that would cause him to turn now. The folded hands showed before me. I made my spring, a quick Jerk, and bound the wrists! “Like an animal, snarling, cursing, he turned. His great shoulders heaved as he struggled to release nimself from the bonds which secured his hands. His eyes glistened now with the fires of fury. ‘“You —you traitress!’ he whipped out at me. You —!’ " *1 am trying to save you from murder,' I cried.

"With a sudden movement he lunged forward and rushed at me, his bound hands still struggling. I sprang to one side, I Jerked forth my revolver, whirled it high and sent the butt crashing down upon his head as he passed. He hurtled to the floor, he struggled a moment, then lay still.’’ “The freighter was gone now, Alice Clement looked about her with the manner of someone pleased at the passing of an unwholesome experience “‘That’s about all,’ she concluded, except that by some quick work I got a policeman into the room soon enough to catch the blackmailer, take the -credit for both arrests and keep my name out of connection with the thing. And I’ve got this to say for Rogers—he was game enough to go on through with his confession, once he had made it to me. Oh, for goodness sake, I never—’’ “What?" I asked with a turn of my head. “To late now," said Miss Clement with that old, happy smile on her face;: “but it was funny, that fellow on the green bench over by the statue Just kissed his girl and she gave hint a slap in the face.”

“JIM, SAY YOU WON'T—FOR ME.”