Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 February 1887 — A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. [ARTICLE]

A MYSTERY EXPLAINED.

BY MARY R. P. HATCH.

“ Stranger than Fiction. Miss Mancy Weatherly, n maiden Indy, lor many years a resident of Walden, was found dead in her bed last Wednesday morning. It is believed that Bhe died of heart disease. She was very eccentric and made her will in an extraordinary manner. The young lady who has lived with her Bim-e childhood found pinned to her pillow a slip of paper upon which was written: “Find my will. You will be paid for your trouble." An anxious search was immediately instituted by the relatives, and the will was at last round braided up in the old lady’s wig. The sum of one dollar was given each relative, while the bulk of her property, about twenty thousand, was left the young lady above mentioned. Miss Clarice Wynne. Seme novelist will seize open this item and make capital of it.” Mr. N’atbaaielWeatherly was uot auoveliat, but he seized upon this item and with set teeth and lowering brow read it through many times, noting each paragraph separately. At last, pushing back his chair violently, he ejaculated with great force: “What villainy is this, scheming creature? 11l ease you of your twenty thousand." Hastily writing a note he gave it to his clerk, and this duty accomplished, again ran his eye over the newspaper item which had made such havoc with his usual culm demeanor. Mr. Wetherly was a broker, n man of considerable wealth and of excellent business reputation, and was uot one of the relatives referred to as having assisted in the search for the will; on the contrary, though her nearest kin, he had not been near the solitary old lady except upon one occasion for many years. As is often the case, however, the dead relative was of more interest than the living one. At the time of her death he bad been in Pennsylvania upon business and knew nothing of the affair until his return. His wife then handed him the daily journal and jointed to the notice, only stopping to •ay: “We were invited to the funeral, but as you were away 1 sent regrets for us both. ” Mr. Weatherly knew that a young girl, a dependent, lived with his consin. Indeed, he had seen her upon the. occasion of his visit; besides, he had received letters from her written at the old lady's dictation, but he had never approved of this girl, ior, as he reasoned, dependents were always scheming and artful, and she was not likely to be au exception. He, however, could not prevent her staying with his cousin, ns he had no influence with either. A quiet, gentlemanly young man was at last ushered into the broker’s office. It was Mr. Neal, a young detective, who had called in answer to the note from Mr. Weatherly. The two immediately plunged into conversation.

“Now. Mr. Neal,” said (he broker, “I want yon to tell me what points strike you the most forcibly in tEia affair." “Why, at iiret this, assuie.ily, that she must have known, or supposed, she was going to die, or she would not have pinned that slip to her pillow. That looks like Bnieide, doe 6 it not, instead of heart disease?” 1 “Anything else?" asked Mr. Weatherly, eagerly. “I don’t like to mention in this stage of proceeding the other thought which has j occmred to me.” “Let me voice it for you. You think, on the other hand, that it looks just as if some interested person, or this young j insiauce, had pinned the slip to her pillow j after administering a neat little dose-of i morphine.” “My dear sir.” said the young man, has- j tily, “that would be 100 much to say. Miss, j Weatherly may have beeii apprehensive of sudden death. If slie had a disease of the heart she undoubtedly was.” “And so pinned that slip to her pillow niglgly?” “I did not say that. She may have felt worse than usual before retiring.” “We) are losing time, Mr. Neal, in these speculations,” said the broker, impatiently, “for l ean prove to you at once that a great fraud has been practiced, that my cousin never wrote the slip at all.” “How do you know this?" “From the simple reason that rnyre•pected relative could not write.” said Mr. Weatherly, drily. Mr. Neal looked surprised by this declaration. as well he might,; “Fs It possible?”- , Jhe cried. .... .L ~*lt is increditable as it seeths. Maucy was always a strange child, and, though bright and exceptionally clever about some things, could never learn to write, or i rou.ld not, which was about the same thing. She was a spoiled child, as only children are apt to be; her mother died when she was an infant and her father j a morose, silent man, took little heed of her ways.” “But how old was she when she died?” “About 70.” “She may have learned to write in after years.” . “No, I know for certainty that she never did. This Clarice Wj nne has done all her writing, and if I mistake not, she wrote that slip of pnper likewise. - T~ know" my cousin could not write, for she tola me so. I took it into my head to run up and see her last summer. She was very punctilious. Every New Years I received a line from her, through Miss Wynne, to tell me that she was well, and to inquire after my own health, until the affair grew monotonous. 1 took a strong dislike to this girl without ever having seen her, which grew stronger when I did see her, xrd on this occasion of my visit, the day I ' came home, I begged Money as a favor to . write to me herself.’ ‘Bless: you,’ says the, ‘didn’t you know I can’t write?’ I bad forgotten it. and I said heartily, ‘but have you never learnt?* ‘No,’ said she. •you cau’t teach old dogs new tricks, and

- ' what I couldn’t learn when X was young I sha'n't bo apt to attempt now,' ’Clarice is ears, eyes, and hands, for the old womau. Y’ou will have (o hear from mo through her or not at all.’ ” “She spoke fondly of Clarice, it seems.” <- “I**, sho was fond of her. There was no donbt about that.” *B«t she can’t be a very quick-witted girl.” 'j' , '-v :—- . “Bntshe la." ■■- 1 • : ■ ■ ... “Then she never planned the villiany you suspect. If she knew that Miss Weatherly could not write, and that others know it, consider how foolish she must -be to commit such n manifest fofgety.” “Perhaps, she will say that she wrote the slip at my cousin's dictation,” said the broker.” “Or that Miss AVeatherly, learned to write in her Inst dnys.” said thadetective. “It is a strange nffair, amt I menp to have it thoroughly investigated. I know very little about it, or of my cousin's life nnd associates, nnd I cnye veiv little for niy share of the twenty thousand, but as her nearest relation it is my duty to discover whether she has Iteeti foully dealt by. Mv friend, Mr. Barnes, spoke to me so highly of your skill in tlie Munster affair that I want you to take hold of this if you will. The young man flushed under this compliment-, nnd for other rensonshs well. l!e did uot exactly like the aspect of the affair, and yet it moused all his detective an<l ho finally consented. “Twill introduce you as mv nephew upon my wife's side, and say that you were visiting mg and that I invited you to accompany me to Malden for the iishing. It is a famous place for trout, and the hotel, is quite near.” “Very Well,” replied the young man.

Quiet reigned in the little house in Malden. so lately occupied by Miss Mancy. No inquest had been thought necessary, and the funeral passed oft' quietly. The score of relations, though greedy, were honest and unsuspecting, and though nngry enough at losing the anticipated wealth, yet went no farther than to say that Miss Wynne had v.ormed herself into the old lady's confidence for the purpose of becoming her heiress. They were slowwitted, the Malden Wealherlys, and though more than one must have known that Miss Money did not write, few stopped to consider whether she could write, and besides the will seemed to be regular < nongb, only the alleged witnesses had both emigrated to Washington Territory, nnd never been heard from, nnd the lawyer who drew it up was very ill in Brighton; too ill to be approached upon business and too ill to recover, it was said. So Miss Wynne pros left severely - aIoDC by the relatives; nnd lonely, indeed, she must have been in the little house so lately shadowed by death, and with no companion save an old woman whom she engaged to stay with her. A tall, fair young lady, attired for a walk, came out the door just as Mr. Weatherly and Mr. Nenl approached. She came toward the former with outstretched bands. *O, Mr. Weatherly, I am so glad to see yon. It has been so lonely Bince Aunt Money died.” “Thank you. Miss Wynne, for your cordial greetiug,” said Mr. Weatherly. “Allow me to introduce you to ray nephew, Mr. Neal Hardy.” A quiet, trusting hand was laid in the young man’s, and when it was removed ho felt like a vidian. However, the detective had seen much of life, in particular its darker portion, and was therefore unlikely to let a momentary emotion master him. Accordingly he began to note Miss Wynne’s mar ’ er toward Mr. Weatherly, which, it seemed, could not have been more proper. “She is no buuglar any way. She never wrote that slip and pinned it j.o the dead woman’s pillow unless there was a plausabie reason for doing so,” he thought. lie excused himself in a few minutes, saying that he would return to the hotel. He wished to begin investigations at once, and in the interval before his uncle’s return he learned much concerning Miss Weatherly’s manner of life and eccentricities. Mr. Weatherly remained in the garden talking with Miss Wynne. “1 told you,” said Mr. Weatherly to Neal, recounting the interview, “that I'had come to Malden to learn the manner and cause of my cousin’s death; that I considered a great forgery had been committed, for, as she, knew aiid 1 knew, my cousin could not

write. She said that Maucy must have learned for this very purpose.” “Do you agree with her?” asked the detective,' although he felt irritated at Mr. Weatherly's course. He would have preferred riot to have had Miss Wynne acquainted with these suspicions. “No, indeed,” said the broker, “I do not. Does it look reasonable?” “Not very, I admit. She did not say that she wrote the slips at the old lady’s dictation?” “No, she claimed to know nothing about it. But come go up with me to-morrow. I mustered a little courtesy to my aid on your account. I did not let her see my drift completely, for I did not wish to sever my connection with the house. She invited me to call to-morrow to look over the papers and to select some keepsakes and soforth. I told her I would like to bring my nephew with me, if agreeable, and sh?’ cordially consented.” “Miss' Wynne is no ordinary girl,” said Mr. Neal. “I hope so—for the credit of the rest,” said Mr, Weatherly, dryly. Mr. Neal was unprepared for the beautiful vision that met them at the door, for in her home dress of blue, with dainty white apron, and little rings of fair hair falling over her forehead, she looked far lovelier than the evening before. “It is a sad time for you to visit the Weatherly homestead. Did not Mr. Weath- ! erlv tell me that you were a relative?” she ; said, i “Not ou the Weatherly side. I think he must have told you that I am his nephew , upon his wife's side.” “Perhaps so; but the family is so large I i do riot know all the connections.” I She visibly brightened. Evidently the I Weatherly's were too numerous, since they all managed to plant a thorn in the rose of ; her inherited wealth. Quiet, but observant* , the young man busied himself in looking over a photograph album, while the others conversed together“Do you really think my cousin learned to write in her last days?” asked Mr. Weatherly. “Tcan hardly say that T think so, and yet I don't know what to think if* she -did not? I will show you the slip,” and she left the room. “I will pass it over to yon, nnd you must continue to compare it with Miss Wynne’s t«-uers, which I gave you,” said Mr, Weath- ! erly. L * ±—a ('-••“Very well,” and Miss Wynne entered with the slip. It was well,;though somewhat feebly written; the letters were of ■ modern style and; very much resembled Miss i Wynne’s handwriting.as the broker noticed !at once. “Pretty good writing for an old lady, isn’t it, Neal?” passing it over, to the young man. “Resembles yours, Miss .Wyhne, does it not?” “It does somewhat.” replied" she with great self-control, although she, flushed deeply. j “She must have taken lessoned *ou,” said Mr. Neal. i “No I never saw her write, nor was I aware that she ever attempted to. Matters look 1 . ■■■ t—-d—, i ■ u ÜBS

M If she learned, but how, why; or when, I i do not know,” replied Miss Wynne. A weaker girl would have fallen into the : trap be bad set, would hare said that she thought that Miss Mancy had tried lo learn, that she had seen her busied with pencil, paper* etc., etc. That she did not, argued unimpeachable integrity or deepest depravity,. . I“Was she troubled with heart disease?" asked Mr. Weatherly*———■-/ ■ “Bhe complained of a p&iu in her heart sometimes, and she tqld me only a few days before she died that (she should not live long, and should probably die suddenly." “Ho yon think she jiud any spite against her re stives?” “Y'es, sir. She often said she had no one in the world to care for her but ine,” said the 1 young lady, and tears stole into her eyes. “Muncy was not very affectionate," said her cousin. “She Was kind-hearted and true, ns I. a friendless orphan, know full well,” returned Mi s Wynne, with some spirit. Mr. Neal looked at her, with a fastgrowing belief that she was innocent of crime, if crime there was. “Have you the pillow-case to which this was pinned?" asked Mr. Weatherly. (These questions had been suggested by the young detective.» “No. it is at the washerwoman’s.” “Will yon allow me .tp examino my cousin's room?” She looked nt him keenly. “Certain suspicions have arisen, as I told you Inst night,” said he, “which, for yonr own sake, it is best should be set at rest. Can we not count upon your aid?” “Y’ou can," she replied.- “Everything shaU.be open to your scrutiny.- Her room is iust as she left it.” “Come, Neal,” said Mr. Weatherly. “Y'our eyes are brighter than mine.” Drawers and secretaries were unlocked, everything subjected to the closest scruliny, but not one scrap of Miss Weatherly’s wriling could be found. It would seem, indeed, as if she had never traced aline; and yet Miss Wynne professed to know nothing of the slip. \\ hat could it mean but forgery, and with a direr significance attached to it if she could not write? Had the hand that wrought this villiany been Btill more deeply sleejied in guilt? Nothing was discovered to throw the least light upon the subject, and the two gentlemen withdrew, leaving Miss Wynne a prey to the deepest anxiety. Mr. Weatherly returned to his home the same day, but left Neal at the hotel.

A walk to the washerwoman, whose name Miss Wynne had mentioned, resulted in a gleam of light, it seemed to Neal, as he sat down that night in his room and unrolled a pillow slip. It looks providential that she has been sick and unable to wash. “I wonder if I reckon too much upon these pinholes,” he muttered. “Here they are, oue, two, three, four, five, six,” holding it up to the light which gleamed through the tiny punctures. “The slip has but two. So that could have been pinned on but once. A new one written every day. Then the old lady must have burned them in the morning when she found she was alive. A grim joke! Three separate slips were pinned to this one. Two nights she looked for death, but did not find it. That does not look like murder or suicide; it looks as if she felt that she might die at any time,, just as Miss Wynne said. Who told her she would die? Her physician most likely. I’ll see him to-morrow. Jfchree sets of holes, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday—the very night she died. (They change bed-linen Sundays, I be-" lievei. Expecting death makes the vital spark burn low, I’ve heard.” Neal called on the doctor, who was too busy a man to be a curious one. He answered the inquiries courteously but briefly. Yes, Miss Weatherly had a disease of the heart. He told her that she would die suddenly, and she did. Did he ever receive a note from her? No, but he had from Miss Wynne,-she did Miss Weatherly's writing. Thus the matter rested. Nothing more could be learued; But meantime, it bad undergone a wonderful turn in Neal’s mind. He ha l met the young lady several times, and each interview but served to impress the belief more fully upon him that she was innocent and to' bind shackles of dove about his heart more lirmly. One day he wpb listlessly passing by an old tumble-down building, when seeing a peddler’s cart hitched before it, a sudden thought struck him, anti he entered. “Do I collect rags at the Weatherly’s?” said the peddler, in answer to Neal’s question. “Yes, sir, I do. You see that bag over yonder? 1 took ’em this verymornin'. Might you look ’em over? Snrtnin, I iiain't no objection. You won’t find no great vallv.” Down ou the dirty floor Mr. Neal got and helped to sort the bag which contained rags, old newspapers, and scraps of old letters. A small roll neatly tied With thread atlast came to view. Opening it, the detective ran his eyes over the various scraps of handwriting which it contained. Neal’s heart stood still. The very consummation he had hoped for, if the faint idea might be called a hope! Here, was the story told as plainly as words could do it. i Miss Weatherly, in the furtherance of ! her plan, had learned to write just enough i to write that slip, which she pinned nightly to her pillow. It was here. F's without number, then “find, find my will, find my will,” in various degrees of excellence, and all copied, it would seem, from an old letter of Miss Wynne's which was tied up with the packet. A complete copy appeared amongst them: “Find my will. You will be paid for your trouble.” Miss Weatherly’s

grim humor and distrust of her relatives was seen in nil this. It was as if she hoped to triumph even in death over this disappointment; but it is safe to say she •• never considered the perilous position in which she placed Clarice. A brighter, clearer-eyed young man was Mr. Neal when he arose frem his search. “May I have these?” he asked the peddler. The latter glanced them over, “Yes, they ain’t no heft nor no ’count, anyway,” said he. * - * * » * ♦ * It is well said that there is a tide in the affairs of men. The tide of Miss Wynne’s had turned and all flowed smoothly back t© qniet waters. As Mr. Neal entered her house to acquaint her with tho discovery,he saw the well-known face of Mr. Bradley, a celebrated lawyer, who had recovered from his illness, at least sufficiently to come to Malden, when he learned of . the supieions regarding Miss Wynne. The two were introduced, and it soon became plain that the discovery was not needful. Miss Weatherly had acquainted the lawyer with her plan and, had had two wills,' sac-similes of each other, drawn up. The lawyer kept one, in case the other, which was placed in her -wig, should pot be discovered. “Yon ha ye employed a detective, it seems,” said the lawyer to Miss Wynne. “I have heard of Mr. Neal,and I can vouch, for his honor and faithfulness.” “I was employed by Mr. Weatherly,” said Neal. *• Clarice shot an indignant look at him, whieh was met with one so pleading that she dropped her eyes. “I can say nothing,” said the young man, “but that, though employed by Mr. Weatherly, I have been in Miss Wvnne’s service since I saw her.” ' “Gallantly said and truly, I have no doubt,” said Mr. Bradley. Thus the matter ended. One or two of the relatives talked of contesting the will

on Ihe ground* tkat Miss Mancy was not of sound mind, but they despaired of proving it and gave it up./ / ' < In the antumn a quiet wedding took place at Malden. The happy couple were no other than the heiress and young Neal, the detective. - .