Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 157, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 July 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 Invisible Clue

▲lice Clement was bound for Europe, mission unknown except to herself and the watchers of criminals who Wear the police stars of the city of Chicago. And, judging from the queer little smile which Miss Clement gave me as we walked down Fifth avenue, after our meeting, it seemed that the mission was to remain a secret “It seems,” I said, “that the occasion of your coming to New York ought to be enough to cause you to tell a little of it anyway." She directed one of those flashing, good humored looks at me. “Can you remember a time when I ever told anything of a case before I finished it?” she queried. I was forced to admit that she was right. Miss Clement continued: “Besides,” with a smile, “New York Isn’t so new to me. 1 made an arrest here once.” It was then that a crossing jam took our attention from things criminal, and it was not until an hour later, when seated in the moonlight on the top deck of a Coney Island boat, that the conversation drifted back. I had •aid something about the detective stories of fiction and the wonderful doctors who always are finding criminals through their scientific investigations. “And yet,” said J Miss Clement, “there’s many a story of fiction that has its counterpart in real life. For Instance, that New York arrest I spoke of was an example of what can . be done by science. The up-to-date police departments are not so blind to new discoveries as you might think.” As the story started, I could not help admiring the picture before me, the white clad figure with its hat shielding the face from the pearl-like flood of the moon, they flash of eyes now and then as the head turned, the clasped hands —and on beyond the rolling sea, gleaming and swirling in the night light. In the distance the shore slid past in black, ever changing shadows. It was a cool night, and the usual crowd of the boat was absent Here and there about the deck, however, sat youpg men and young women conversing in low tones, or sitting ,si'ent and looking out to the thin line of the horizon. Far ahead, a lighthouse flashed its warning. The steam of the ship’s exhaust mixed incongruously with the music of the boat orchestra. I* leaned nearer that I might hear better.

“I can’t say that I ever was really assigned to a case where murders or something of the kind have been concerned,” Miss Clement had begun, “but it always seems I am just happening along by accident. This New York case (I call it that because the case was finished here) was one of those affairs, though not a murder. “I was walking down State street, Chicago, one morning when a crowd around a store caused me to stop. The shattered glass and general wreckage within told of some kind of accident I elbowed my way to the door, and there met one of the men from the central office.

" 'What’s' happened?’ I inquired. ‘“Safe blowing,’ was the answer. ‘And it was a real one. The yeggman who did this job must have thought he was a Mount Vesuvius. He not only tore the store to pieces, but he tried to do the same thing to himself.* He pointed to a few spots of blood on the wall, evidently where the safeblower had been knocked by the explosion and cut his head. 'But just the same,’ the detective contlmysd, ‘that didn’t keep him from cleaning the safe of about |IO,OOO in money and paper and getting away. And that’s what gets me. I can’t for the life of me see how he managed to escape.* "A cursory glance on the outside, however, showed that the matter of escape had been fairly easy. An alley was at the side of the building, and frbm there, by dark routes through an excavation and an unfinished building, It was easy to reach Wabash avenue and the railroad yards beyond. I have never made It much of a point to spend! much* time figuring but by what method a man has escaped. It doesn’t do much toward finding him. I went back into the store. " ‘What do you think of it?* I asked the central office man.

"‘lt isn’t what you’d call the beat chance In the world,’ was his answer. There’s not a thing to bang a clue on. The only chance we have is to get track of some of that negotiable paper and trace him that —huh!’ "He had been digging around in the rubbish near the safe, and pulled forth a bundle of papers. That clue was gone. *The robber had taken only the money. I looked around the room. “ ‘At least,’ I said, ‘we can find out whether he is a negro or a white man. Lend me your knife.* T stepped to the wainscoting and chipped off a bit of blood-stained wood. Then I started for a microscopist. "That night a chance was tn my grasp and I was on a Kansas City Flyer, bound for Fort Leavenworth, Kan. And the next afternoon —’’ "Why Leavenworth F’ I asked. “Had you found out his name?" Miss Clement’s smile flashed in ths ■sooullght...

(Copyright. by W. O. Chapman.)

“Not a trace of it,” was the answer. "I was depending on a new friend, Plasmodium Falciparum, to give me that” “Who?” “You never met” was the laughing reply. “But as I said, the next afternoon found me in Fort Leavenworth, addressing a man in the blue of the United States army. “ ‘Yours is the only regiment in from the Philippines since when?’ I asked. “ Tn a year,’ was the answer. " ‘Any deserters?’ “ ‘One.’ “‘May I see the pictures and any letters tha’t have been intercepted?’

“Of course,” explained Miss Clement, “my credentials had been shown. The object of my visit was, of course, as yet a secret, with the exception of the fact that I was looking for a criminal. The letters were shown me. I hurried away, and by the next day I was in Oklahoma City. A sample case of books was under my i arm. I found the house I desired, and knocked at the door. “Ts Miss Sexton in?’ I Inquired of the girl at the door. “T am Miss Sexton,* came the answer. ” Tour name was given me as being interested in books,’ I said as I edged past her and into the hall. I did not stop talking then, but manufactured the name of a publisher, a scheme of selling and everything else connected with book agency. My aim was to get the girl in a room and alone. I succeeded in my purpose. Then I locked the door and whirled.

“'I want that night letter!’ I demanded. "The girl blanched. " 'Night letter?’ she stammered. "'From Tom Barton,* I snapped back. I had played a ‘hunch’ and I saw that I had hit the mark. The woman half rose. “ 'I don’t know whom you are talking about,* she answered. "’You don’t?’ I questioned, back. 'You know very well who I am talking about!* I answered. 'You know that he has deserted the/ United States army, that he now is a fugitive from justice, and that he has wired you to join him. Don’t scream or try to get out of this room,’ I warned her. “ T have a revolver, and I will shoot. Until I see otherwise,-you are under arrest.’ I showed my badge. ‘Now give me that night letter!’ "The girl, she was hardly more than that, reeled half way across the parlor and was leaning against the piano for support. Her face was ghastly. Her hands were clasped until the blood distended the wrist veins like blue cords. Her breath came in gasps. “'Deserted?* she asked vaguely, ‘deserted? He told me he was on furlough of a month. We were going to get married, and he got the furlough for our trip.’

“ 'lt.wlll be a much longer furlough than that,’ I answered icily. ‘You are a good girl, Miss Sexton. I can see that. My coming here will enable you to escape a great -deal. Ido not desire to cause you any more notoriety than is necessary. But I must insist on your remaining under guard a few days at a hotel. No one will know the difference —providing you give me that night letter. Otherwise, it will be plain jail—and the papers.* “A long wait and then the girl, half staggering, came toward me a x few steps and extended a yellow envelope. I placed it in my pocketbook and wordlessly we left the house. In all my life I never had seen a girl so absolutely crushed. There were no tears. Her grief and surprise were too deep for that. Only the bloodless face, the trembling, blue lips, the eyes Which looked almost unseelngly at the world, told of the girl’s suffering. On the way to the hotel, where a detective awaited me, 1 learned her story—not much of one, that of a stenographer, lonely and young, who had met a man In uniform and been fascinated. It wasn’t much to hear, but the sincerity of it all, the deadened way in which it was told, cut into my heart. ‘“And you knew nothing of him?’ I asked.

" ‘I was lonely,* was her invariable, dull answer; ‘he told me lots of things. I believed them.* e "An hour later I telegram, a day message instead of the night letter I had determined upon believing it to be. I read: ‘“Meet me Newark, N. J., June 10. Will bo married then. Keep thing secret until afterward. Will toll reason when I see you. Tom.* ** There came a pause in the narrative. Miss Clement spent a moment in watching the lovelorn actions of a shop girl and a floorwalker near the railing of the boat. She smiled in amused appreciation at The effort of handholding and then turned her eyes to watch the blinking of the lighthouse. The story began again. "I went to a telegraph station. My wires were not to Tom, however, but to the office in Chicago. And when, a few days later, I stepped from the train at Newark, I saw near the baggage room the familiar faces of two central office men. I looked in

vain for my deserter. He was not in right. I walked into the station and began to pace the room. Discouragement had flashed upon me. I had taken every precaution, yet there had been chances for failure. I had trusteed the girl in her story that she was the only one who knew that Tom had left the fort, in fact, that she was the only girl in the dty who knew him at all. And in my haste, I had accepted that story without further investigation. I saw now the mistake that was possible. Had this girl played to disarm me by her expression of deep sorrow? Had there been someone else who had warned him? Had

“A sudden fear entered my heart There was only one chance to find out and that was to learn the possibility of a telegram having been delivered to him at the station. I hurried to the bulletin' board to see. If possible, if the name of 'Tom—l knew the last name would be changed—had been put there that day. I crossed the room and then stopped with a shock. Before me stood out the chalk-marked words:

“ ‘Agnes Sexton.’ , T rushed to the telegraph desk and called for the message. Then with trembling hands I tore open the envelope. “ ‘Have porter show you way to Gramercy Park, New York,’ the message ran. ‘Will be waiting for you there at northwest corner at midnight Can’t tell reason. Get directions explicitly.* “It was signed ‘Tom’ as the other message had been. I reached for a pencil, scribbled my orders on the piece of paper, then dropped it at the feet of one of the central office men as I hurried past Then I started for New York. 1 / “The great mournful chimes of the two-story clock in the Metropolitan tower were clanging twelve as I turned from Broadway, down Twentieth street and Into Gramercy Square. The streets were deserted, except for a figure huddled against the iron grating of the eighty-year-old park. The song of time, played In its weird, longsounding tones, rang out over the sleepy old park with its doleful message of

Days and years Come and go, Passing on, Passing on. "From tenemdnt-lined Third avenue and its opening canyons of slum streets came the drowsy murmur of late night An L train clattered along, its wheels singing and beating. I looked far down the street under the street light and perceived the waiting figures of my detectives. It lessened the bumping of my heart to know they were ready. I approached the figure by the grating. “‘ls this Gramercy Park?’ I asked, and with a quick glance saw that, according to orders, my men were beginning to move forward. The man had started forward a bit at the right of me, then had returned to his position by the fence. I could not see his sac Important-thing. Work was still before me. I repeated my question.

" ‘ls this Gramercy Park?’ “‘Yes,’ came the curt answer at last. “‘How do the numbers run?’ “ ‘Around the block.’ The man kept his face turned from me. I laughed rather queerly at his answer. ‘“I don’t quite understand,* I said. ‘l’m a stranger here in New York. I don’t know anything about the city. Couldn’t you tell me which way the numbers run here? Do they run from east to west or from north to south?’ “It was then that the man turned from the fence and with an angry swing of his arm, made a circle of the park. “ ‘They run that way!’ he answered testily. He looked at me. I saw his face. I raised an arm. There was a rush, a short struggle as the cursing, biting, kicking man sought to evade the handcuffs and then Tom Barton was started to the station. “But Tom Barton was a different type of person from his fiancee. He disregarded every question. He refused, even under threats, to answer anything that was asked of him. "At last, however, he looked up and with a sneer admitted what we had been questioning him to obtain—the fact that he was a deserter from the United States army. Then the real work began.

“ Where did you get that bruise on your head?* one of the detectives askuh “ Where do you suppose?* came the Insolent query in response. *1 got it working, of course.’ " ‘Where?’ “‘None of your business!' ‘“Don’t answer me that way!’ The detective leaned forward. “ ‘l’ll answer you any way I pleaffe;* came the sneering response. ‘Why can’t you let a fellow be? You’ve got your fifty dollars reward for getting next to a slipaway, now let me alone. I want to go to sleep.* " ‘We want you for something more than deserting.* I said. We want you for cracking a safe in Chicago, and whether you confess it or not, we’ve got the goods on you.*

“The prisoner sneered again. "‘All right,’ he eaid. ‘Prove It I ain’t been near Chicago.* "I smiled happily. " ’Haven’t you?’ I asked. *Very well, we’ll show that you have. O'Leary, scratch his wrist there and take a sample of his blood.* "The man looked up. ‘“What are you going to do with thatF he asked. “‘Prove our case against yon,* was my answer, and he stared at me. “ ‘What have you got up your sleeve?* bo questioned queerly. "None of youa business. Hold out your wrist Captain, will you send •

man to the Bertlllon room for a glass microscope slide? I want to put a drop of this man’s blood on it.* “Barton seemed to squirm in his chair. My mysterious actions were affecting him queerly. For a moment he remained silent, watching the operation of placing a small drop of blood on the microscope slide. He seemed worried. He knew we had some sort of information regarding which he knew, nothing. He began to ask questions. His caution seemed to leave him. One little admission came unguarded from his lips. Anqther was added to it. We began to twist his account of his actions. And in an hour he had confessed everything and was willing to go back to Chicago without requisition papers.” “ Miss Clement turned and looked ahead to where a yellowish glare diffused the sky.

"We’re getting near Coney, aren’t we?” she asked. ) “Yes,” I answered, “but that doesn’t interest me at all right now. What I want to know is how on earth you found out; that the robber of the safe was a deserter from the army.” Miss Clement smiled. “I told you of Plasmodium Falciparum, didn’t I?” “Yes, but what in the name of Sam Hill is—weH, whatever you said.” Again a laugh. ‘TU have to explain it, I guess,” the pretty little detective said. “When that spot of blood found in the store was placed under a microscope it showed plasmodium falciparum, or, in other words, the indications of a tropical malarial fever, common to the Philippines. Then, it was a two to one bet that the person was a soldier who recently "had returned to the country. I looked Up the matter and found that the last regiment to come from the Philippines was stationed at Fort Leavenworth. I figured he would be a deserter, In need of money. After I read the letters that had been intercepted, I was more of this opinion than ever, for I saw he had been intending to get married. You see, his plan was to desert, get a bunch of money, then leave the country. But it didn’t work out”

The lights of Coney flared brighter than ever. Miss Clement turned to again watch the tender-hearted shop girl and the .lovelorn floorwalker. "Silly things, aren’t they?*’ she asked.

Progress.

He who has not lived in those years when an old world is disappearing and a new one making its way cannot realize the tragedy of life, for at such times the old is still sufficiently strong to resist the assault of the new, and the latter, though growing, is still not strong' enough to annihilate that world on the ruins of which alone It will be able to prosper. Men are then called upon to solve insoluble problems and to attempt enterprises which are both necessary and Impossible. There is confusion everywhere, in the mind within and in the world without. Hate often separates those who ought to aid one another, since they are tending toward the same goal, and sympathy binds men together who are forced to do battle with one another. —Ferrero.

Elections Immensely Costly.

Based on the calculations of actual expenses in New York city for the last election, the' entire cost to the country was at least >27,000,000, without putting in the cost of campaigns. Just for the voting in New York the total expense was >1,202,175, or a trifle more than >I.BO for each voter. For advertising the location of polling places in newspapers the charge was >293,000.

Perfect Jewel.

Mistress—Yon have excellent letters of recommendation. Now Cook—Yis mum. Not a fut will 01 shtep ont av an body’s house until 01 git warn—Puck.

"THEY RUN THAT WAY,” HE ANSWERED, TESTILY.

FLOWERS ADD TO GLADNESS OF EARTH

"Plant hope and joy will grow. Every brown bulb I buiT in the earth in the autumn promises fragrance and beauty. A flower will unfold to add to the gladness of earth and the festival of springtide.” When the speaker had arisen from his knees where he had been setting out tulips, his friend, leaning over the fence watching him remarked: “You have always been called the Primrose Man because you are a magician -at getting primroses In your garden, but If you talk more in that strain I shall call you the Preacher.” The Primrose Man only laughed, and said under his breath so she did not hear him: “Oh, woman, woman! When are you satisfied?” Then he went on out loud as he opened the gate and invited her in:

“You know, though many men and women in this village do not, that it is proper to-plant bulbs as long as the frost has not gripped the ground. Come in and take stock of what I have been doing and tell me what you have done, Dame of the Hollyrocks.” "I always plant according to reasons of my own,” she said, smiling as she read the labels on his neat wooden stakes. "I do not expect to be as successful with bulbs for spring flowering as l am with hollyhocks in July. Hollyhocks grow as lavishly for me as primroses do for you. Perhaps because I love them, or Is It because I take care of them? I never pass them without digging a bit'around the roots. You know, I believe that flowers feel encouraged when we pet them.”

"Therein no doubt about it Some day when some one translates the feeling of flowers, we shall hear a story worth listening to. Let us make the most of November sunshine. When the snow flies, I like to look out of my window and have a day dream of the first snow drops, the scillas, narcissus and hyacinths coming up. Spring has more than earthly beauty.” No doubt his pride was justified as he counted the rows of tulips—the earliest crowns of gold, the. snowy “L’lmmaculee,” the Duc .Van Thole, the Cottage Maid and the Duchess of Parma—all to be out bright and early in the spring. Then came the fanciful parroquets with fringed and corrugated petals, and for later May, a noble line of the Darwin tulips. The Hollyhock Woman agreed that it was a proud showing. Any one who took a bulb catalogue and was willing to buy the lists as they were printed, could have blossoming bulbs in the spring so gay that the whole village would walk that way to look at them. "I have been thinking,” she said, “that mdst of the gardens all through our neighborhood look rather melancholy this autumn. I make a habit of keeping my plot of earth tidy the year around. Of course, you do, too, because you hire a gardener to work at it, Just walk around the block with me, take notes, and then shall come back, and I’ll praise your bulb garden to your heart’s desire. There Is something in the autumn air that makes one long to walk.” “Right willingly,” said her companion, brushing the earth from his hands and covering his basket with dry asparagus so that no passer by would be tempted to help himself. “You must come back, for you have not seen my fritlllaria imperialis.” “I know what you are trying to tell merit is that the reason most crown Imperials—the fritlllarlas—do not succeed is because we do not plant them on their sides, but upright instead. If every one knew the charm of that plant, the hanging bells and their fragrance and the way birds lovethem, crown imperials would be as plenty as crocuses in all the yards.” The Hollyhock Woman led the way.

talking briskly, and the neighbors at home this sunny afternoon peeped through the curtains at them. "I do wish those two flower fanciers would stay at home,” grumbled the Practical Woman to the Yearling Bride and her baby. "I am certain they will walk around by my block, and if I go home, there I shall find them looking over my borders wondering why I have not made a fire of the rubbish littering the yard. Why, every one knows that the asters and the golden rod and the French marigolds have stayed so long this year that we have been t afraid to pull up too many things. The other morning when I was up at six to catch the milkman, I saw the Hollyhock Woman out raking her beds and strewing the dry leaves over them. She said she always did that before she put on a mulch. How aggravating these careful people are! I have no doubt she carries a pair of scissors in her pocket all the time to clip off dead leaves and twigs.” “We ought to be thankful some one sets us an example, don’t you think so, baby?" said the young wife to her crowing son, who was trying to readh the red leaves twined in her hair. "Good day to you,” said the Primrose Man, crossing the street. “Youfr lot looks as if It meant an autumn garden. The bitter-sweet is scarlet, the mountain ash is hung with berries, the dog-wood, hop-tree, bush-cranber-ry and snow-berry are full of fruit.” The little woman smiled happily, and the baby clapped its hands, as she said: "You encourage me by noticing my yard. A little praise goes a long way, so the wiseacres say. Think of the many months we must stay in the house and look out of the windows—and why should our yards look desolate at any time? The fruiting shrubs bring the birds all winter and look so pretty when the snow bangs on them.” "If more people only knew it! It seems Incredible that every one does not grasp every atom of joy and pleasure that comes his way. So much goes to waste, and life is so short Now I must be going; I have something I want to do before sunset” The Hollyhock Woman took her basket on her arm and set off down the street Her friends strolled slowly after her, as the Primrose Man had promised to show the others colchicum, or fall crocus, in blossom on the grassy lawn before the window of a Shut-in Woman who lay on her couch looking out at it "What can she be doing?” whispered the Practical Woman, who did not believe in much flower planting. The Hollyhock Woman certainly acted queerly. She was a block ahead on the hill, across the street and every few minutes she would get down on her knees. "She is sticking crocus and daffodil bulbs in places where she thinks they ought to grow. It’s her way of surprising people,” said the Primrose Man. "Oh, the dear woman,” cried the Young Wife. "Please run after her and make her come home to supper with me. You must come, too, Mr. Primrose Man. and let us talk of flowers together" LENA MAY M'CAULEY. (Copyright, IJI2. by W. G, Chapman.)

Saved by Dog's Sagacity.

The sagacity of a dog, a bull terrier, undoubtedly saved the life of its young master, Gilbert Davey, and his companion, Curtis Stroud, who were asleep In a Sacramento (Cat) stable which was destroyed by fire early the other morning. Upon being aroused by tbs ■ dog, that jumped upon their bed. the boys found the room full of smok& They had no time to save their clothing, but they ‘rushed Into the back part of the stable and rescued two of tha three horses in the stalls.