Rensselaer Journal, Volume 10, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 April 1901 — THE IVORY QUEEK [ARTICLE]

THE IVORY QUEEK

A Detective Story Of a Chic-igo Suburb. The Murder at The Grange and How , its Mystery Vl as Solved by Darrent the American Lecoq.

BY NORMAN HURST.

CopyHght, 1899, by the American Press Association.

[CONTINUED.] vino, sir. ‘ ‘And have no idea what they were like?” “Well, sir, I heard Mr. Dobson say that ‘they were Indian work in ivory, very finely carved with figures, elephants, men on horseback, and the like.” All the time that Darrent had been questioning Thompson his eye had never ceased to wander over the room, from the window to the bookcases, from the bookcases to the lofty chimney piece and back to the window again. Those round panes in the doors of the dark oak bookcases seemed to Darrent to glare down at him like wide open eyes —wide open, staring eyes that never closed night or day, eyes that had gazed down on Josiah Marsden score upon score of times, eyes that had witnessed the murder. What was Josiah Marsden doing that fatal night? Was he sitting, solitary and alone, by the fire, the gray ashes of which still filled the grate, reading one or other of those treasures of literature that lined the shelves ? Darrent walked round the room and minutely examined the fastenings of the bookcases. No; the dust proved that they had not been opened for weeks. Had Marsden been seated there at the table with the chessmen and board in front of him, working out some problem, when the assassin had crept noiselessly in, stolen behind him and stabbed him to death ? Was there nothing in all that room to afford one tiny clew to the murderer? Had there been a struggle between the murderer and victim, and in it had there possibly been a tiny thread of material torn, or a button wrenched off, or an ornament broken, that could afford something of a clew? With eyes fixed on the floor, Darrent stood thinking, while Thompson waited respectfully on one side. Darrent paced the length of the room from the window to the fireplace several times and pondered. At last he paused in one of his journeys and gazed out over the whitened country. From the house to the river not a footmark marred the surface. The snow that had drifted on to the broad window sill was undisturbed. There had been no escape that way. He faced round and stood with his back to the light. The wintry sun was shining full into the library and throwing a ribbon of color across the floor, and in its track upon the polished wood something white glittered. It was only a tiny speck, but it caught Darrent’s eye. He stooped, picked it up and examined it closely, it seemed to be a broken piece of ivory, a little mite of lacelike filigree. He looked at it in the full light of the window, and suddenly it dawned upon him that here was his clew, here in this tiny scrap, for Darrent felt confident that it had formed part of the ornamental carving of a chessman, and it was a set of chessmen that some one had been at great pains to secure from that very room. Yes, here was the clew! Once let him trace the set of chessmen that had been obtained from The Grange, once let him find that one was damaged and satisfy himself that this fragment fitted, and the first step in the discovery of the murderer of Josiah Marsden would be accomplished. He carefully wrapped the piece of ivory in a cigarette paper and placed it in his pocketbook. “Now, Thompson,” he said to the officer, who had been interestedly watching his proceedings, “I think I’ve seen enough of this room, for the present at any rate. Let us turn our attention to a thorough searc of the rest of the building. The murderer seems to have entered in the ordinary way, but he did not depart the same way as he

entered. Therefore, Thompson, ne Knew i of some other means of exit, and what i we have got to do is to find it. ” Darrent had already arrived at the conclusion that the • murder had been committed by some one who possessed an intimate knowledge'of the structure of The Grange itself and of some secret means of escape. There must bp a secret ! means of exit from the building—of that he was confident—but where ? That was the trouble, and that they would have to discover. That the entrance had been in the usual and ordinary way and the exit in some unusual and extraordinary way was certain, and that gave rise to two possible theories. One was that the murderer was merely an ordinary visitor, with originally no ill intent. Something which raicht never be solved led to a quarrel with old Marsden, and that had ended in a struggle and his death, whereupon the murderer, acquainted with the structure of the building, had escaped by the secret way. Or, on the other hand, the- assassin had entered, with malice aforethought, determined, for some reason of revenge, upon the death of Josiah Marsden, intending after the committal of the deed to make use of the secret route and leave no trace of his escape. In either case it proved a thorough knowledge of the house and the existence of some private means of exit, and that was what they must discover. Together they left the library and began their search. From garret to basement they ransacked every room, but could discover nothing. Dust reigned supreme everywhere, and the most careful investigation revealed no possible hiding place or means of escape. After several hours’ thorough search Darrent and his assistant conclusively satisfied themselves that the murderer was not concealed upon the premises. How, then, had he escaped? He had not gone out by the front door. Then he must have escaped from the back of The Grange, and yet from the house to the river the snow lay in one smooth, undisturbed mantle of white. Not a telltale mark betrayed the way of the murderer’s flight.

On the left of the entrance hall, opposite the library, was the only other room that seemed to have been in constant use, and at the far end, in the same place as the window was situated in the library, a fernery had been built, but it was bare of foliage now and boasted only a collection of dry and withered shrubs. This was the last room Darrent entered. He stood in the conservatory and opened the door leading to the grounds. A flight of steps, protected by an ornamental iron awning, over which ivy and creeping plants had grown, led down to a covered trellised walk, where the thick intwining foliage had kept the snow from penetrating. The walk extended from the bottom of the steps to an open rockery some 50 feet away, built in the dip of the ground. Large masses of rugged stone had been piled together, and rough hewn steps led down to a deep pool filled with brushes and aquatic plants. The pool, which was frozen and black, was overhung by drooping trees, whose pendent branches almost touched its surface —a charming spot in summer, with its moss grown stones, its white and yellow water lilies, its creeping plants and miniature waterfall plashing gently down, but now. in c the grip of the ice king, its sylvan beauty was transformed as by a magic wand. It seemed a very fairy grotto. The overhanging trees gleamed white with frosted snow, glistening like diamonds, and from every rock hung fantastic icicles in all the beauty of an Aladdin’s cave. Darrent descended the steps and traversed the covered walk, which was entirely free from snow, until he reached the rough hewn steps that led down to the pool, and as he gazed upon the beauty of the scene before him and admired the pendent branches frosted with their white, feathery powder his keen eye was attracted by the slender trunk of a silver birch "which some four feet from the ground showed a space a few inches wide absent of tlf* snewy covering which decked the remainder of the tree. He carefully examined the spot. It looked as though a hand had gripped it. Then he bent down and scrutinized the earth at the foot-of the birch. Yes, there was the mark as of a footstep. Any one coming from the covered walk that led from the con--servatory to the rockery would have been able without treading on any of the snow covered ground to have seized the trunk of that tree and so swung himself down toward the bottom of the pool. Stepping carefully over the slippery stones, Darrent and Thompson reached the bottom and stood side by side upon the frozen surface. Evidently some one had been there before them, for the impression of footprints was visible, leading to the very back of the grotto. Following the track, they pushed aside the long streamers of creeping plants coated with ice, that jingled musically as they moved them, and found the grotto extended some feet beyond, and then it seemed to cease, shut in by heavy masses of rock, but on closer approach a narrow opening at right angles became visible, and into this the footprints led. With an effort they forced themselves through the entrance and into a kind of tunnel, at the far end of which a ray of light

shone like a star. The floor or the tunnel was coated with ice, and evidently they were walking along the bed of a channel by which the overflow from the grotto found its way out into the river. Slowly and painfully they groped along in the darkness, stumbling and slipping upon the smooth surface of the ice and bruising their hands against the sides of the tunnel. Half way through, the pathway grew narrower and lower, and it was only by creeping in a painfully stooping attitude that they could get along at all. The light grew nearer. They struggled on for a dozen or so yards more and at length, through a tangled mass of shrubs and brushes, saw stretching before them the broad expanse of the river, while the ring of the skates sounded merrily in the distance. The skaters passed, flying like fixe, wind, along the stretch of perfect ice. No one was in sight, either to the right or the left, as, pushing aside the bushes, Herbert Darrent and his companion crept on their hands and knees from the narrow causeway out on to the frozen river, and the way of the escape of the murderer of Josiah Marsden was solved. (*TO BE CONTINUED.) “Last winter I was confined to my bed with a very bad cold on the lungs. Nothing gave me relief. Finally my wife bought a bottle of One Minute Cough Cure that effected a speedy cure. I cannot speak too highly of that excellent remedy.”—Mr. T. K. Houseman, Manataweny, Pa. A. F. Long.