Rensselaer Journal, Volume 10, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 April 1901 — THE IVORY QUEEN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE IVORY QUEEN

A Detective Story Of a Chicago Suburb. The Marder at The Grange and How Its Mystery Was Solved by Darrent, the American Lecoq.

BY NORMAN HURST.

CHAPTER III. ON THE TRACK. Although the passage or tunnel by which the murderer had in all probability escaped from The Grange had now been discovered, Darrent was obliged to own to himself as he stood upon the frozen river that he was really no nearer learning the truth or solving the mystery. What had proved a mysterious, supernatural factor in the crime in the eyes of the unsophisticated inhabitants of Norcombe and had set their imaginations, such as they were, to work on the wild ideas of haunted houses and ghostly assassins had, after all, turned out to be nothing. Just what he had expected would be the explanation from the moment the story was related to him by the driver of the dogcart had proved to be correct —footsteps leading into the house and no return—so that it seemed to Darrent there was but one solution or rather two —either the murderer was still in the building, which was far from probable, or had escaped by a passage, and the latter had proved w be the case. And yet, after all, he mused, as he made his way across the grounds back to the front of 1 the house, it had proved his theory that the murderer of old Marsden was well acquainted with The Grange. Who should know the ins and outs of the premises better than the dead man’s son or ward, whichever he

was, the one whose name the dying man had endeavored to write—Astray Marsden ? Again all the circumstances against Astray forced themselves upon his mind. What if it should prove to be no mystery at all? Young Marsden had returned, gone perhaps straight to The Grange, quarreled openly with the old man and in a paroxysm of rage struck the blow which killed him. Darrent took the paper from his pocket again and closely scrutinized it. “I am dying, murdered by Astra”— Astray had gone. Perhaps for fear of blackmail, perhaps because he was guilty, but, whatever the reason, Darrent decided he must be stopped, and, scribbling a few lines upon a form, he dispatched Thompson to the telegraph office, and again entered the library. So far he had acted simply es a man of caution, but without conviction. He intended to stop Astray’s flight not because he waa, assured of his guilt, but because he might be guilty. As a detective who had earned fame hs suspected everybody but condemned none until link by link he had forged the chain that was unbreakable. As it was, so many incidents seemed to point to Astray, and yet one thing iestroyed the whole theory—the stolen chessmen. If he could trace them, he felt he would be a step nearer discovering the murderer and with them the motive.

That was the great difficulty in this ease, the apparent absence of motive. He was glad to be alone while from a few fragments he endeavored to make jut what kind of man the murderer was and to fix in his mind the style of individual he had to look for. Did the murder arise out of a sudden quarrel, or was it premeditated and ac-

complished in a few moments —the entrance, the murder and then flight? He began by supposing that it was the outcome of a quarrel; that the two men had been in conversation before the fatal blow was struck. The old man probably sat in his chair on the right hand side of the fire. Darrent took that chair himself, and the visitor —where? He had the assurance of the officer that nothing had been moved. There was no chair conveniently placed for a visitor. It might have been moved, or the stranger might have stood during the interview. That being so, he wonts nave stood opposite Marsden, so Darrent rose and took the place of the supposed visitor and, as human nature is so prone to 1011, felt an inclination to rest his arm upon the high mantelshelf. He smiled a quiet smile of self satisfaction as he glanced at the shelf and noticed the impression left in the dust where an arm had recently rested. It was a high shelf, too, and the impression in the dust was that of an elbow only. The man had stood with his chin in his hand and his elbow on the shelf. Darrent was a well proportioned man and tried the position. It was not one of comfort. For ease he would have laid his whole arm full length upon the shelf and rested his shoulder against it. The man who had stood there was taller than he and close upon if not over six feet in height. So far, he thought, so good. The search was narrowing. Surely to trace a man of six feet in that little town would not be difficult. He wondered how tall young Marsden was; then, setting to work again, dropped on his knees and carefully examined the fireplace. j No papers had been burned. Only the dead ashes remained on the heal th and something he had almost overlooked, but now caught up with an excited exclamation and carried to the window—a plug of half burned tobacco that had been cut out of a pipe, because it had been rammed in too tightly, and discarded, dug out with the blade of a knife, it was obvious, for a dainty shred of meerschaum adhered to the side. Another step—another clew! The murderer was not a tramp who had beguiled the old man to let him stay the night. Tramps were not so wasteful of their tobacco and did not smoke meerschaums. Six feet high—smoked a meerschaum pipe I Darrent felt he was moving. A quarter of an hour afterward, when Policeman Thompson returned to The Grange, he found Herbert Darrent sitting in the library writing at topmost speed fn his notebook, with a fragment of thread, a plug of tobacco, a scrap of ivory, a carved ivory chessman and a few matches spread out on a sheet of paper before him. “Have you discovered anything, sir?” he ventured to ask as Darrent continued to till sheet after sheet as if unaware of his presence. Dan-ent quietly nodded his head and closed the book. “Listen to me,” he said, “and tell me if you know any one who answers to this description: Appearance, very tall —say a good six feet—and broad in proportion, bronzed and bearded, strong as an ox; temper very passionate; dress of homespun cloth; soft hat; smokes a meerschaum pipe; lately returned from somewhere abroad, probably South Africa. ’ ’ Thompson, with his eyes wide open, gazed in astonishment at the detective and shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “He wears a heavy gold signet ring on the little finger of the left hand and has recently cut the forefinger of the right. Do you know him?” “No, indeed, sir! You’ve made a mistake. He wouldn’t do it. He could not.” “Ah! Then my description fits some one!” “It is Astray Marsden to the life, sir, but he didn’t commit the murder. ” “That is to be proved. He was at this house on the night of the murder. You met him on that night.” “I, sir?” “Yes, you, Thompson. You’ve got to do your duty, whether it is palatable to you or not. Astray Marsden left the

town nearly two years ago, came back here the night of the murder and left next morning. If you did not meet him that night, you would not know he answered to my description. A man does not look the same and certainly does not dress the same after an absence abroad of two years. Where did you meet him ?” “Near the Palace hotel. ” “What time?” “A little after 2 o’clock in the morning” “Was it snowing?” “No, sir; it had stopped.” “What did he say? Did he seem excited?” fro BE CONTINUED. J There are twelve men In Chichester (England) workhouse whose united ages make 1.042 average of nearly eighty-seven years each. “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. A series of not less than twenty exin the growth of sugar beet in different parts of Great Britain and Ireland will be made during the coming season. The value of the beet for the feeding of stock will be kept in view, independently of its value for the manufacture of sugar.

Slowly and painfully they groped along in the darkness.

“Have you discovered anything, sir?”