Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 December 1902 — The Iron-Worker’s Daughter [ARTICLE]

The Iron-Worker’s Daughter

BY HOWARD FORRESTER .

CHAPTER XI. The furnaces in Star Mill were glowing. The pent-up fires in some reminded one of slumbering volcanoes, while the glare of others blinded the workmen. Scores of workmen were stirring the depths of the puddling furnaces. Workmen here and there mopped their faces, bare arms and shoulders. The great rolls, glistening in the light of the furnaces, revolved continuously as the finishers tossed the hot bars between them, to be snapped up and whirled writhing through them like enormous reptiles in their death agony. The clang of iron falling on the cooling plates, the shonts of the workmen, and the roar of the titan-like machinery filled the air as the mill took in pig metal, weighed, broke and melted it, boiled it In the furnaces, vomited the metal out in huge balls, which were caught in the jaws of the “squeezers,” squeezed into billets, which were reheated, and passed through great and small rolls, and tossed out and straightened on the cooling plates* Mr. Meeker had just driven iuto the mill yard and fastened his horse, when the new manager approached him. “What is it, Gummitt?” “I want to speak to y<flfe” “Come into the office.” He led the way into his private room, and awaited the manager's communication in silence. Gdtamitt cleared his throat. “It’s about Atherton. His furnace —” “Sam,” said the mill owner dryly, “if It is about Atherton—nothing else—make it as short as possible.” But Gummitt was a thick-headed and bull-headed man. He hdd conceived the idea since they had made him manager that he was a very valuable man, indeed, and one the owners could not easily dispense with, and he presumed upon this to express an opinion when he ought to have remained silent. “I must speak. Unless I do, he’ll think he can do as he pleases. He is cross this morning, and refused to repair—that is,, he won’t shut his furnace down to-day and let me have it fixed.” “Why not wait till to-morrow?” “Because I want to put my best foot foremost, and get things in shape as soon as possible. The furnace ought to be overhauled, but Atherton wants to run the week out, and let the bricklayers do it Saturday. It’s sheer stubbornness, Mr. Meeker, and a bad example tp permit.” “O, I wouldn’t notice Atherton. I have a reason of my own, Sam. Anything else?” “Yes, but I’ll wait until this gentleman ■•peaks to you.” This gentlema’n proved to be Mr. Gripp. Mr. Gripp’s manner was always deferential to his superiors and his equals. To his inferiors he was overbearing, tart, brusque, and often brutal. Now he was as smooth as oil. He stepped forward, rubbing his hands, as the manager turned to Mayberry, who looked curiously at Gripp. “Are you prepared to take that lot of old rails I spoke of, Mr. Meeker?” “I atn not sure.” “That’s a fine lot of tenants you have down there in the bottom,” said one of Mr. Meeker’s partners suddenly. The partner was sitting in a corner reading a morning paper. “Why?” demanded Meeker, turning half round. “When they have nothing else to do, they murder each other. Here’s half a column in the paper about it. A very mysterious affair it seems to be.” Mayberry’s eyes were fixed pn Gripp’s face. Gripp was as unconcerned apparently as though the news related wholly to the affairs of another planet. “They are not my tenants,” said Meeker. “That" was never my property. It belonged to one of my brothers years ago. Who was murdered—and where Was the crime committed?” Again Mayberry’s gaze was riveted on Gripp’s face. “In a house crowded with a rough lot of people—old offenders, some of them. Brick —stands alone —three-story. A woman either suicided or was murdered —case a little mixed. The coroner’s jury will determine it.” “I may conclude it settled, then, I suppose, Mr. Meeker?” said Gripp in his oiliest tone.

“One minute, Gripp. How is that? A woman murdered. Who is she?” “Why, that’s the most, mysterious part of it. She seems to have had two or three names—fine material for a dime novel in the account published.” “Any grounds for believing a murder was committed?” “Rather vague, I should say. You can determine for yourself. Simply a chain of inferences.” “Well,” said Mr. Meeker, with a sigh of relief, “I’m glad it’s only inference. I never can read—or hear—of the murder of a woman, Gripp, without wishing I could lay my hands on her murderer and help to h»r>« him on the spot.” “A vefy natural feenug—"quite natural," said Gripp. “Yes—l guess you may send the lot over. Mayberry, make out a check for the amount, and give it to Mr. Gripp.” And then the mill owner turned to the manager. “What is it, Gummitt?” “I’ll see you later in the day. I must go Ihto the mill now," the manager replied. A His face was very pale; his voice sotflded strange to Mayberry and the mill owner. Mayberry wondered at the extraordinary change that had come over the new manager. If it had been manifested by Gripp, he qould have understood it. But why the mill manager should betray agitation was strange indeed. Mayberry turned to his desk again, made out a check for the amouut due Gripp, and was in the act of handing the check to him when Gripp said: “I had better receipt for It first.” Mayberry was so preoccupied that he had departed from bis usual practice and the universal custom. But the manner In which Gripp reminded him of the unintentional oversight angered him. He was on the point of replying, when he reconsidered, returned Gripp's look with one that gentleman altogether misunderstood, and passed him the receipt book. As Gripp leaned over the desk to sign his name. Mayberry’s glance fell upon the back of Gripp’s neck. In the act of bend-

ing, Gripp's neck was revealed far below the line his coat collar covered. There were five distinct marks on his neck, such marks as human nails might make. As Mayberry looked at these red marks he shuddered. He felt that he was within arm’s reach of a murderer. “Thanks,” said Gripp, in his oily manner, as Mayberry handed him the check. Then something in Mayberry’s manner caused him to start; he looked around quickly, then down at his clothes, and, regaining his self-possession instantly, bowed and went away. Mayberry immediately picked up a paper and hurriedly scanned the account of the mystery that was set down by all the morning newspapers as a murder. One paragraph in particular attracted his attention. It read thus: “There are many circumstances which warrant the opinion that a deliberate murder has been committed. The dead woman’s clothes were torn; the seam at the shoulders looks as though it had been subjected to extraordinary strain before it parted. A curious fact is pointed out by one of the officers. The nails of her right hand are discolored; they have a dull, reddish tinge. If this be blood, an analysis will determine the fact speedily. Unfortunately for the ends of justice, it seems some person unknown swept the floor, and thus -it is difficult to establish the correctness of the theory that the dead woman in the struggle with her murderer caught his wrist or neck. If she had torn his clothes or torn from him anything that would have been the means of identifying him, the sweeping has removed the evidence. On the other hand, two or three well-known physicians are positive the marks on the woman’s neck were not made by the rope found around her neck. In fine, it is said that there is reason to believe the woman had a visitor—the mysterious caller referred to in the outset —and that she was killed by him, and afterward placed in such a position as to convey the impression that she committed suicide.” o When Mayberry read this, he was convinced that he had just parted with the murderer. The figures before his ejes were meaningless for a time. He was thinking of Gripp; of the shadow on the curtain; of the peculiar actions of Mr. Gripp before the crime was committed; of the length of time Mr. Gripp remained in the tenement house. _ What could he do? He was surmising. If he spoke of the matter, he might subject himself to much questioning, great inconvenience, and Gripp’s actions might be explained in a manner that would render Mayberry Ridiculous. But murder had been done. If his suspicions were well founded, it was his duty to strive to bring the murderer to justice. Especially if he was the cold-blooded villain and rascal Mayberry had reason to think Gripp was. There was another reason. This man held something—knew something that made Atherton fear him. So Gripp was a thief, and the shocking impression that he was a deliberate murderer made Mayberry’s blood course swiftly through his veins. He longed to see him brought to justice. Mayberry’s course was determined on the instant. He would call on his friend the young lawyer immediately. Five minutes later he was on his way to his friend’s office. He was so fortunate as to find his friend in. He was closeted with him but a few minutes. When he returned to his work it was with a relieved mind. Matters were in train for getting at the truth. The lawyer woilld put a detective on the affair who could be relied upon—a man of rare intelligence, not a professional detective. It was a case where this man would demonstrate his tact and analytic power. Mayberry would meet his friend in the evening, and learn what had been developed in the meantime. At the appointed hour Mayberry repaired to his friend’s office to meet a young man, neatly dressed, with a very quiet, selfcontained manner. It would be difficult to determine his place in society or his calling. He did not seem to notice Mayberry, yet in one swift glance that young man was photographed upon his memory. “Mr. Mayberry, Mr. Dunn.” The young man bowed. The lawyer sat back in his chair; Mayberry turned quickly to Dunn. “I have learned something." “It was not easy, I suppose.” “It was not difficult. It required a little time. I talked to the neighbors, called in the neighboring stores, just as either of you would do, to begin with. The dead woman had two names. The stories published are not true* She was known as Mrs. Cole by several—the people in the house where she died knew* her as Mrs. Knox.” “Was she murdered, or did she commit suicide?” “Murdered.” ’-AuyihfTig to indicate when or how she was murdered?” } “Much. A physician whose name is a guarantee of sound judgmenr—’"fled me she was dead six or ten hours when she was discovered. There was no one knew who swept the floor. There wasn’t much fire in the grate, but I found cinders over, above the film of ashes the broom had left on the brick hearth. The streaks wer* plain.” “Did you look at the nails —are they discolored with blood?” “They are. I could say that after using my glass, which is powerful. I believe the man who murdered her did it to get rid of her—the may have possessed a secret. I think the murderer entered the house when nobody paid any attention to him, killed her by choking, then put the rope around her neck and fastened it to the hook iu the walL” “Why do you assume; it was a man?” “For two reasons—both satisfactory, you will say. In the'-first place, there will be no difficulty in proving a man entered the house in the dusk of the evening—a man who does not reside there.” “Was he seen?” "Ye*. By people in the bouse —by a woman, and also by a man across the street, a shoemaker.” “The second reason T’ “I found in the ashes, under the grate, several hairs. They are short—about the length of a man’s hsir.”

"Might they not be a woman’s hair, broken?" “It is possible, not probable. You can determine that to your own satisfaction. I have the hair with me. You and your friend, Mr. Mayberry, may pull a few hairs, break one or two, and compare them under my microscope.” Dunn produced a small pocketbook from an inside pocket, took out a small piece of white paper, opened it, and laid it on the table. Next he took from his coat pocket, in separate pieces, a powerful microscope, adjusted it, and stood aside. The lawyer broke one or two hairs plucked from his head; Mayberry did the same, and both observed the difference between the perfect and broken hairs. Then Dunn handed them the hairs he had found under the grate. Last of all, he showed them a woman’s hair, lifted from the floor near where her body was suspended. Then he pointed out the difference between the hair inclined to curl, the curly hair, and the straight hair. How some hairs Were flat, others round, others with corners that made them look like small triangular tubes. “I am satisfied any one can tell a broken hair from one torn out by the roots,” said Mayberry. “Especially when you can see the bulb at the root,” said the lawyer. “Well — what next?” There was a long pause. The lawyer and Mayberry felt that the next question was all important—that the answer would govern their future course. “It is your opinion the woman was murdered—that she was choked to death, then hung by the neck to a hook in the wall; that the murderer was a man; that he was seen; that at least two persons can identify him; that this man committed the murder last night, and afterward swept the room, or the part near the fireplace; that he swept some of his own hair under the grate—the hairs you have here. The presumption is, the woman fought for her life —pulled the hairs out of the man’s head?” The detective nodded gravely as Nickerson ceased. “Have you any idea who the man is?”

CHAPTER XII. Nickerson was the first to break the silence that ensued. He arose and paced the floor. “You said there was a woman in the house, and a shoemaker across the way, who saw and even described the man?” “I did.” “To whom does their description point ?” “Unmistakably to Atherton. Almost any one who knows him would recognize him from their description.” “Whatever is done,” said Mayberry with resolution in his faee and tone, ‘‘l want to have no share, no hand, in bringing Atherton into trouble. I can’t believe he would murder any one. It is not like him to strike a woman, either.” “I have told you all I know,” said Dunn, in a respectful but firm tone. “I never permit my feelings to interfere with my judgment.” “I believe you; but there is some terrible mistake here. Don’t —don’t let us blunder. It may cost a man more than life is worth;.it may rob Atherton of his reputation.” “It is like to end in somebody losing life,” said Dunn. “There hasn't been any hanging here for some time. The first bad case will serve for an example.” Mayberry shuddered. He imagined he beheld Irene Atherton’s face looking at him. He beheld the reproachful look in her satkeyes. Then he recovered his selfpossession and decision. “Admitting it was a man’s deed. Admitting that Atherton was in the house that evening, it does not follow that he committed the murder.” - “Not necessarily,” said Dunn. “It is a coincidence, and might be explained away.” Nickerson looked from the detective to his friend, then said, slowly and with rare deliberation: “I see. We had better talk this matter over very carefully and quietly. We must make no mistakes—leave no room for misapprehensions.” "Exactly what I was going to say,” said Mayberry. “Mayberry, tell Dunn all you know.” Whereupon Mayberry briefly related the facts as they fell under his own observation, not omitting the marks on Gripp’s neck. The detective paid due attention to the narrative. “What dp you think now?” the lawyer asked. “It puts a different light on th« matter, but it only confuses. It don’t help to straighten things out. We are running off on another track, that’s all.” “It may be the only track—4lie real track,” said the lawyer. “How are we to know which is the right track?” “Why, by showing Gripp had an object in view; that he pursued a course of action warranting the belief that he had wronged one person; that he is a man who would not scruple to commit a crime —whereas Atherton has always borne a good reputation.” “You can do this?’

“We can,” said Mayberry. “Mayberry,” said Nickerson, “we had best tell'Mr. Dunn the stofy of Atherton’s pntent.” i Mayberry again related the facts in a concise manner, The detective listened with evident Interest. When Mayberry the detective said suddenly: “Thi»i»llke m«;ct important of all. It will help ns to get at the ttulh. You say jou beheld a woman accost Gripp‘in the evehing? Could you describe her general appearance—dress?" “She was dressed in black, or something that looked almost black. She impressed me BomAow as a middle-aged woman." “When Gripp paused near the newsstand, he did not have any excuse for standing there T* “Ho avoided observation, I thought, and made sure nq one was near when be entered the hous4.” “Yon are sure he entered it?” “Positive.” “Now—the shadows on the curtainyon felt there was something?” “I could not loafo the spo*; for some minutes, I snpose six, or maybe more, I watched for the shadow.” “Gentlemen,” said the detective, slowly, “I think the murder was committed then. I’ll give you my reason. The woman, it is now pretty certain, was killed in the evening. The man whose hand Mr. Mayberry saw raised maybe only intended to strike her. Why? Because, If he had meant murder at first, he would have held something in his hand. After he

struck her, either her resistance made him furious, or she might have endeavored to cry for help, and he choked her to death.” The matter-of-fact manner in which Dunn spoke of the killing made his listeners shudder. They seemed to be looking on the tragedy. It was a reality, as Dunn described it.. “Then you incline to the opinion that Gripp is the murderer?” “That is a thing none of us can determine until we know more. I see what you mean,” said Dunn to Mayberry; “you think because the shadows were thrown on the curtain so soon after Gripp entered the house, that he committed the murder. That will not be deemed sufficient. We must have something more. Let us try the glass again. What sort of hair is Atherton’s?” “Brown,” said Mayberry, promptly. “And Gripp’s, now. What color is his hair?” “Black,” said Mayberry. Dunn pointed to the paper containing the hairs he had found in the fireplace. “If the color of these corresponds witli Gripp’s he is the man. Let us determine the color of the hair.” Mayberry and the attorney awaited the result of Dunn’s examination with extraordinary interest He invited the others to look. The moment Nickerson’s eye was fixed on the glass, he exclaimed: “They are Gripp’s beyond a peradventureP’ Then Mayberry looked at the hair. “It is Gripp’s hair.” “You are satisfied, gentlemen?” “There is no doubt about it,” said Mayberry. “The next thing to do,” said Dunn, “is to prove it in court.” (To be continued.)