Rensselaer Journal, Volume 11, Number 9, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 August 1901 — THE IVORY QUEEN. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE IVORY QUEEN.

By NOBMAN HURST.

[Copyright, 1899, by American Pres. Association.] [CONT'NUED. ] Thompson was evidently 111 at easa He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other and twirled his helmet nervously between his fingers. “Sit down, Thompson. Make yourself at home. ” "Thank you, sir.” "Now, then, come. What is it?” "I suppose you’re going back to Chicago for good, sir, now?” "Oh, I see! You desire promotion, eh? Want me to say a word to your mayor? I’ll be delighted.” "No; it’s not that. It’s about the trjal, sir.” “Oh! Well, what is it?” “Do you feel”— And Thompson hesitated again. "Do I feel what, man ? Go on, go on ” "Well, do you feel you’ve got the right man?” "Astray Marsden is condemned. Is that all you’ve got to say?" "No, sir. I’m not blaming you for any mistake, because you’ve only put this and that together, but there has been a mistake. ’ ’ “Well, if that’s the case, we’ll get him out just as easily as we put him in. Now, then, my boy,’” Darrent continued, rising and clapping his visitor on the shoulder, “you didn't come to see me just to tell me that What more do you know ?” "Well, sir, of course I'm not a detective like you are, but I’ve read a lot zf. detective tales. I’m very partial to thmi. and—er”— “Well?” “I’ve always found in them that detectives took such a lot of notice of footmarks, and—er—well, you didn’t. ”• "The footprints were obliterated, trampled out by a lot of jays who had nothing better to do than stare through

the windows and fancy they could set, ghosts, long before I got to The Grange. ” “Well, sir, I saw them when they were fresh. ’ ’ “Yes? What were they like?’’ “I took this copy,” Thompson said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket “It's the exact size.” Darrent snatched the paper and excitedly examined it. Toe tips, heel tips, hobnails. “Confound it, a farmer!” And there rang through Darrent’s brain as plainly as if the man were standing beside him speaking the words, “And the strodinary part of it was that I got up in the mornin, and 20 of them cows was froze. ” “Why have you kept this to yourself all this time?” Darrent sharply asked, turning on the man. ‘‘Well, you were so mighty sure, 1 feared you would have thought it impertinence for me to have tried to show you anything, ” the other retorted, with some amount of irritation. Darrent bit his lips, thoroughly annoyed. He remembered how he had taken a curious delight in mystifying and surprising this novice, and he had been caught in his own trap. “Thompson, ’ ’ he said after a moment or two, “you’re quite right I was an idiot, but we are together on the right side now, and I’m going to save Astray Marsden. ” “That being so, sir, I’m sorry”— “Nothing to be sorry about, my boy, but you should not have given way to temper. It might have been bad for Astray. Never mind. Leave me now, and we’ll soon have him out of jail and put the right man there instead. ’ ’ “Suppose it was that thick headed fellow who lost the cows?” Darrent mused as his visitor departed. “Well, stranger things have happened. Come in, come in. What is it?” “A letter for you, just come, sir.” “Thanks. Hum! Chicago postmark. ” The contents of the note caused him to start to his feet in surprise. “Astra is something toward ‘Astray,’ •nd so it is toward ‘a stranger,* ” he read, and that was all. Then some one else had caught on to the same idea as himself, some one w ho was afraid to sign his name, some one

pernape—ne gasped as tne idea struct, him—who did not mind killing an old man, but had enough conscience left not to let a young man suffer for the crime. A clew at last to the actual murderer I Turning again to the penciled copy of the footprint, Darrent gazed at it carefully. Three of the hobnails were missing from the sole just behind the toe piece. He shook his head. No; it was not a farmer’s boot, after all, but a strong, well made — He jumped up and pulled the bell "Send a messenger to the police station for Chief Dobson at once!” he cried as his ring was answered. He looked ar ins watch—s minuter to 7. Dobson would be there in ten minutes. In eight minutes Darrent walked down stairs. “Tell Dobson to wait,” he said and then stepped out and stood in the shadow of a tree until the chief had arrived and entered the Palace hotel, and then he strode rapidly down to the police station. He pushed open the door. The room was empty. A pair of Chief Dobson’s boots stood in a corner by the firpelace. In an instant he had them in his hands. No nails were missing, but they were exactly the size and shape of the drawing on the paper. So far so good. But Darrent was not yet satisfied. He took out the note that he had received by mail that evening and held it to the light of the lamp. "A five?star diamond,” he muttered, and then, searching about, he discovered Chief Dobson’s limited stock of stationery and submitted it to the same scrutiny, but without result The police station boasted only about half a quire of the commonest paper, too common even to show the faintest watermark. Every drawer, cupboard and box Darrent examined minutely, but discovered nothing to reward his painstaking search. Then the floor, a loose board—ah! He gasped with excitement as he inserted the blade of his knife, and up it came. Nothing there ? Yes; a small parcel! In an instant it was in his hands and untied—only a book! Ah, but what a book—a bankbook of a Chicago bank, and a glance at the figures showed that Edward Dobson had accumulated the respectable little balance of $6,150 which was standing to his credit! Darrent slipped the book into his pocket, replaced the board and strolled back to the Palace • hotel. "He must be a wonderfully clever policeman' who saves over $6,000 without getting into some dishonesty, ” he murmured to himself as he mounted the stairs and opened the door of his room. “Well, we shall see.” Chief Dobson, a very plain and washed out specimen compared with the highly colored one Darrent encountered on his first visit to Norcombe, was sitting in a dejected attitude, with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his hands, and slowly raised his head as Darrent entered.

‘Good evening,” he said in a subdued voice, so subdued that Darrent almost pniea mm. “Good evening. No; don’t rise. Hold up your foot, the left—thanks. ” In an instant he had caught the foot, glanced at the sole of the boot and let it go again, while Dobson went pale to the very lips. “That will do. Consider yourself under arrest for the murder of Josiah Marsden, and I warn you”— “My God, sir, Mr. Darrent, you don’t mean itl I’m innocent I I’m innocent !” “That you’ll have an opportunity of proving to a jury. ” “I swear I am. I would not murder a man. I haven’t the courage.” “You were the one who walked up to The Grange and left by the back way to the river. Don’t lie!” “I won’t, sir; I won’t I did that, but I did not murder him. On my soul I didn’t. Mr. Darrent” “Then who did?” “Astray Marsden!" “Bah I That’s all over. Don’t tr* to

snieiu yourseir tiiat way,” “But the paper”— “You wrote it, you liar!” “No. not I swear I didn’t! I’ll tell the truth—the whole truth, sir. I’m everything that’s crooked, but I ain’t a murderer!” Darrent made the wildest random shot he ever ventured upon in his life. “Josiah Marsden never wrote that paper.” he said. “Then he did, and he murdered hint!” “Who?” almost shouted Darrent. “Silas Gosnell. ” “What do you mean?” “I’ll tell you all, sir; I’ll tell the truth. I swear I will; I swear I will ” “You’d better go ahead, then.” “Well, about a year and a half ago old Marsden came to my house one night to see me. He used to look in nojv and again, sir, just to talk. He liked me to tell him stories about the police. ” “Well, goon." “Well, he told me that he’d murdered a man. ” “Oh!” “Said he’d been over to Paris, lured him to a quiet place and stabbed him to the heart. ” “I see. Well?” “I didn’t know what to do, so I asked Mr. Gosnell." “Why ?” “Well, I let it slip in talking to him one day. ’ ’ “What an awful fool you are, Dobson!” “Yes, sir,” he replied, moistening his parched lips; ‘fl believe lam.” “Drink this,” ejaculated Darrent, scarcely able to conceal his disgust at the pitiful state of the man, as he handed him a glass of brandy and water. "Now, then, goon.” “Gosnell said we’d struck it rich, and he fawncied it would pan out a bonanza. ” “Right. That sounds like Gosnelb ” “He told me to leave it to him, anc he’d make money, and we’d divide it, and we’ve been dividing it ever since. He used to go up to The Grange and threaten to give the old man up to justice and talk about hanging until Marsden nearly died of fright, and then he’d say how much he wanted to keep quiet. I’ve had $4,000 as my share.” ‘ ‘Six thousand one hundred and fifty dollars, Dobson!” “No, sir. I saved the $l5O myself,” Dobson mournfully answered, and Darrent almost burst into laughter at the sudden transition from the sublime to the ridiculous. “Well, go on. Get to the night of the murder. ” “On the night of the murder I was on my round, and as I passed The Grange .about 1 I saw some one standing at the window. I could tell it was not Marsden, and I walked up to the door, and as I reached there Gosnell opened it.” “What did he say?” “He said. ‘Keep off, or I’ll brain you. ’ ” “Well?" “I said, ‘lt’s Dobson,’and he said*. ‘Oh 1 I was just coming for you. There’s been murder done here. ’ Then he took me in and showed me the old man lying dead on the floor. He said that he came there to get some more money out of Marsden, and as he came up to the front door a man rushed out, nearly knocking him over, and took to his heels. I said: ‘Then it’s young Marsden. He’s back.’ ‘Well,’ he answered, ‘we don’t want to be in this, and we’ll clear out, but not the front way, in case we run against any one and get suspected. Come on. I know how to escape. ’ And then he took me through the conservatory at the back of The Grange, out down a flight of steps and. along a tunnel to the river. ” “Well?”

“Next morning I had a fearful feeling that Gosnell had done the murder himself, and I went over to his cottage about 7 and told him so. ’ ’ “What did he say?” “He laughed and said I was mad and then took a paper from his pocket, the paper I gave you, Mr. Darrent, and said, I found this in old Marsden’s hand when I went into the library.’ ” “That was the paper that accused Astray?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, goon.” “Well, he gave jne the paper and advised me to say nothing about it to the authorities, but to keep it quiet, as it would be worth thousands to bleed Astray with. So later on, when the woman Gadsden fetched me, I pretended to take the paper out of old Marsden’s hand.” “You’re a nice blackguard, Dobson.” “Yes, Mr. Darrent, but I did not commit the murder. ” “Now, then, come on,” cried Darrent. “Let’s see if we can find Mr. Silas Gosnell.” He began to realize that he had been too wedded to one set of incidents alone, had ignored all other clews, and while he had been forging the chains around an innocent man the guilty wretch had had time to put thousands of miles between himself and justice. “Where does Gosnell live?” “At a little house opposite The Grange, on the other side of the river. ” “Come on. Look sharp.” Together they started off and, after looking in at the police station for a chisel, made straight for the abcde of Silas Gosnell. There was no answer to their repeated knockings. “Gone, curse him!” Darrent muttered. “Now. then, Dobson, put your shoulder to it. Go on. Now, together—ah!” With a splitting, splintering crash the frail door gave way beneath their united efforts, and they stumbled into the cottage. (*• M COFTDrUDX]

lx occasionally happens that when a man loses his fortune in the same way he got it he wants to send the other Callow to jail.

Darrent enatched the paper and excitedly examined it.