The Syracuse Journal, Volume 6, Number 14, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 31 July 1913 — Page 3

SYNOPSIS. George Anderson and wife see a remarkable looking man come out of the Clermont hotel, look around furtively, wash his hands in the snow and pass on. Commotion attracts them to the Clermont, where, it is found that the beautiful Miss’ Edith Challoner has fallen dead. Anderson describes the man he ‘saw wash his hands in the snow. The hotel manager declares him to be Orlando Brotherson. Physicians find that Miss Challoner was stabbed and not - shot, which seems to clear Brotherson of suspicion. CHAPTER IV.—Continued. ’“What kind of a looking person ■was the man who took you outside last night?” 1 inquired of George, with my eyes still on this furtive watcher. “A fellow to make you laugh. A perfect character, Laura; hideously homely but agreeable enough. I took quite a fancy to him. Why?” “I am looking at him now.” "Very* likely. He’s deep in this affair. Just an everyday detective, but ambitious, I suppose, and quite alive to the importance of being thorough.” "He is watching those people. No, he isn’t. How quickly he disappeared!” “Yes, he’s mercurial in all his movements. Laura, we must get out <x£ this. There happens to be something else in the world for me to do than to sit around and follow up murder clues.” But we, began to doubt if others agreed with him, when on passing out we were stopped in the lobby by this same detective, who had something to say to George, and drew him quickly aside. “What does he want?” I asked, as •socn as George had returned to my side. “He wants me to stand ready to •obey any summons the police may sene me.” “Then they still suspect Brotherson ?” “They must.” As we stepped out of the hotel George gave my arm a quiet pinch which served to direct my attention to an elderly gentleman who was just alighting from a taxicab at the kerb. He moved heavily and with some appearance of pain, but from the crowd collected on the sidewalk, many of whom nudged each other as he passed, he was evidently a person of some importance, and as he disappeared within the hotel entrance, I asked George who this kind-faced, t right-eyed old gentleman could be. He appeared to know, for he told me at once that he was Detective Gryce; a man who had grown old in solving just such baffling problems as these. That night I bided George’s coming with an impatience I could not control. He was late, of course, but when he did appear, I almost forgot cur usual greeting in my hurry to ask ’"‘him if he had seen the evening papers. ( “No,” he grumbled, as he hung up his overcoat. “Been pushed about all day. No time for anything.” “Then let me tell you—” But he would have dinner first. However, a little later we had a comfortable chat. Mr. Gryce had made a discovery, and the papers were full of it. The opinion had become quite general with those best acquainted with the details of this affair, that the mystery was one of those abnormal ones for which no solution would ever be found, when the aged detective showed himself in the building and was taken to the room, where an inspector of police awaited him. “This is very good of you," the inspector began, glancing down at the aged detective’s bundled up legs, and gently pushing a chair towards him. The elderly man thus addressed glanced down at his legs, now propped up on a stool which someone had brought him, and smiled, with the pathos of the old who sees the interests of a lifetime slipping gradually away. “I am not what I was. I can no longer get down on my hands and knees to pick up threads from the nap of a rug, or spy out a spot of blood in the crimson woof of a carpet.” “You shall have Sweetwater here to do the active work for you. What we want of you is the directing mind —the infallible instinct. It’s a case in a thousand, Gryce. It will make you young again.” The ol< man’s eyes shot fire and unconsciously one foot slipped to the floor. Then- he bethought himself and painfully lifted it back again. “What are the points? What’s the difficulty?” he asked. “A woman has been shot —” “No, not shot, stabbed. We thought she had been shot, for that was intelligible and te?voived no impossibilities. But Drs. Heath and Webster, undei the eye of the Challoners’ own physician, have made an examination of the wound and they declare that no bullet is to be found in the body. As the wound extends no further' than the heart, this settles one great point, at least. You know the victim ? Her name, I mean, and the character she bore?” “Yes; so much was told me on my way down.” "A fine girl unspoiled by riches and seeming independence. Happy, too, to all appearance, or we should be . more ready to consider the possibility of suicide.” “Suicide by stabbing calls for a weapon. Yet none has been found, I bear.” “None." "Yet she was killed that way?** "Undoubtedly, and by a long and very narrow blade, larger than aj

needle but not so large as the ordinary stiletto.” “Stabbed while by herself, or what you may call by herself? She had no companion near her?” “None, if we can believe the four members of the Parrish family who were seated at the other end of the room.” “And you do believe them?” “Would a whole family lie —and needlessly?” “It wouldn’t seem so.” “She fell just a few feet from the desk where she had been writing. No word, no cry, just a collapse and sudden fall. She never looked up or spoke again. What do you make of it, Gryce?” “It's a tough one, and I’m not ready to venture an opinion yet. I should like to see the desk you speak of, and the spot where she fell.” A young fellow who had been hovering in the background at once stepped forward. He was the plain-faced detective who had spoken to George. “Will you take my arm, sir?” Mr. Gryce’s whole face brightened. This Sweetwater, as they called him, was, 1 have since understood, one of his proteges and more or less of a favorite. “Have you had a chance at this thing?” he asked. “Yes, sir; they were good enough to allow it.” “Very well, then, you’re In a position to pioneer me. You’ve seen it all and won’t be in a hurry.” “No; I’m at the end of my rope. I haven’t an idea, sir.” “Well, well, that’s honest at all events.” Then, as he slowly rose with the other’s careful assistance, “There’s no crime without its clue. The thing is to recognize that clue when seen. But I’m in no position to make promises.” The mezzanine was guarded from all visitors save such as had official sanction. Consequently, the two remained quite uninterrupted while they moved about the place in quiet consultation. The locale was what Gryce wanted, and he got it. Whether he got anything else It would be impossible to say from his manner as he finally sank into a chair by one of the openings, and looked down on the lobby below. It was full of people coming and going on all sorts of business, and presently he drew back, and, leaning on . Sweetwater’s arm, asked him a few’ questions. “Who were the first to rush in here after the Parrishers gave the alarm?” “One or two of the musicians from the end of the hall. They had just finished their program and were preparing to leave the gallery. Naturally they reached her first.” “And who followed them? Who came next on .the scene?” “Some people from the lobby. They heard the disturbance and rushed up pell-mell.. But not one of these touched her. Later her father came.” “Who did touch her? Anybody, before the father came in?” “Yes; Miss Clarke, the middleaged lady with the Parrishes. She had run towards Miss Challoner as soon as she heard her and was sitting there with the dead girl’s head in her lap when the musicians showed themselves.” * “I suppose she has been carefully questioned?” “Very, I should say.” “And she speaks of no weapon?” “No. Neither she nor any one else at that moment suspected murder or even a violent death. All thought it a natural one—sudden, but the result of some secret disease-” “But the blood? Surely there must have been some show of blood?" “No one noticed any. : Not till the doctor came —her doctor, who was happily in his office in this very sWjgjW Aow & u Cifflß Mill --Li - . He Was Evidently a Person of Some Importance. building. He saw the drops, and uttered the first suggestion of murder.” “How long after was this? Is there any one who has ventured to make an estimate of the number of minutes which elapsed from the time she fell, to the moment when the doctor first raised the cry of murder?” “Y.es. Mr. Slater, the assistant manager, who was in the lobby at the time, says that ten minutes at least must have elapsed." “Ten minutes and no blood! The weapon must still have been there. Some weapon with a short and inconspicuous handle. I think they said there were flowers over and around the place where it struck?" "Yes, great big scarlet ones.” "Ten minutes! I must see every

INITMLS ONLY ’ ANNA KAHIARINE GREENS Author of “the leavenwouth case” "the fuigbee bautYhe house of toewhisperiho pines' ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHAKLES .W. ROSSEB

one who approached aer during those ten minutes. Every one, Sweetwater, and I must myself talk with Miss Clarke.” “You will believe every word she says.” “No doubt. All the more reason why I must see her. Sweetwater, someone drew that weapon out. The question is who? We must leave no stone unturned to find that out.” “Where will you see Miss Clarke?” “Wherever she —only I can’t walk far.” “I think I know the place. You shall have the use of this “elevator. It has not been running since last night or it would be full of curious people all the time, hustling to get a glimpse of this place. But they’ll put a man on for you.” “Very good; manage it as you will. I’ll wait here till you’re ready. I’ll not trouble her much. But there is one point she must make clear to me.” Sweetwater did not presume to ask what point, but he hoped to be fully enlightened when the time came. And he was. Mr. Gryce had undertaken to educate him for this work and never missed the opportunity of giving him a lesson. The three met in a private sitting-room on an upper floor, the detectives entering first and the lady coming in soon after. Miss Clarke w’as not a wpman to rouse an unfavorable opinion in any man’s mind. Os slight, almost frail build, she had that peculiar animation which goes with a speaking eye and a widely sympathetic nature. Without any substantial claims to beauty, her expression was so womanly and so sweet that she was invariably called lovely. - Mr. Gryce was engaged at the mement in shifting his cane from the right hand to the left, but his manner was never more encouraging or his smile more benevolent. “Pardon me,” he apologized, with one of his old-fashioned bows. “I’m sorry to trouble you after all the distress you must have been under this morning. But there is something I wish especially to ask you in regard to the dreadful occurrence in which you played so kind a part. You were the first to reach the prostrate woman, 1 believe.” “Yes. The boys jumped up and ran towards her, but they were frightened by her looks and left it for me to put my hands under and try to life her up.” “Did you manage it?” “I succeeded in getting her head into my lap, nothing more.” “And sat so?” “For some little time.” “You knew she was dead, then?" “I felt her to be so.” “How felt?” “I was sure—l never questioned it.” “You have seen women in a faint?” “Yes, many times.” “What made the difference? Why should you believe Miss Challoner dead simply because she lay still and apparently lifeless?” “I cannot tell you. Possibly, death tells its own story. I only know how I felt.” “Perhaps there was another reason? Perhaps, that, consciously or unconsciously, you laid your palm upon her heart?” Miss Clarke started, and her sweet face showed a moment’s perplexity. “Did I?” she queried, musingly. Then with a sudden access of feeling, “I may have done so, indeed, I believe I did. My arms were around her; it would not have been an unnatural action.” “No; a very natural one, I should say. Cannot you tell me positiveliy whether you did this or not?” “Yes, I did. I had forgotten it, but I remember now.” And the glance she cast him while not meeting his eye showed that she understood the importance of the admission. “I know,” she said, “what you are going to ask me now. Did I feel anything there but the flowers and the tulle? No, Mr. Gryce, I did not. There was no poniard in the wound.” Mr. Gryce felt around, found a chair and sank into it. “You are a truthful woman,” said he. “And,’ he added more slowly, “composed enough in character I should judge not to have made any mistake on this very vital point.” “I think so, Mr. Gryce. I was in a state of excitement, of course; but the woman was a stranger to me, and my feelings were not unduly agitated.” “Sweetwater, we can let my suggestion go in regard to those ten minutes I spoke of. The time is narrowed down to one, and in that one, Miss Clarke was the only person to touch her.” “The only one,” echoed the lady, catching perhaps the slight rising sound of query in his voice. “I will trouble you no further.” So said the old detective, thoughtfully. “Sweetwater, help me out of this." “But one possibility remains.” he confided to Sweetwater, as they stood waiting at the elevator dopr. “Miss Challoner died from a stab. What follows? She struck the blow herself, and the strength of purpose which led her to do this, gave her the additional force to pull the weapon out and fling it from her. It did not fall upon the floor around her; therefore, it flew through one of those openings into the lobby, and there it either will be, or has been found." CHAPTER V. The Red Cloak. “What results? Speak up, Sweetwater."

“None. Every man, woman and boy connected with the hotel has been questioned, but not one of them picked up anything from the floor of the lobby, or knows of any one who did.” A bulletin was put up. Some hours later, Sweetwater reentered the room, and. approaching Mr. Gryce with a smile, blurted out: “The bulletin is a great go. I’ve watched every one who stopped to read it. Many showed interest and many emotion; she seems to have a troop of friends. But embarrassment! only one showed that.” “Embarrassment? Humph! a man?” “No, a woman; a lady, sir; one of the transients.” “A woman! Where is she? Still in the lobby?” “No, sir. She took the elevator while 1 was talking with the clerk." “You mistook her expression.” “I don’t thing so. I had noticed her Jr ill / i M Irfel - -- •—> “You Are a Truthful Woman,” He Said. when she first came into the lobby. She was talking to her daughter who was with her, and looked natural and happy. But no sooner had she seen and read that bulletin, than the blood shot up into her face and her manner became furtive and hasty. Almost before I could joint her out, she had seized her daughter by the arm and hurried her towards the elevator. Her room is on the seventh floor, number 712, and her name is Watkins. Mrs. Horace Watkins of Nashville.” “Call the desk. Say that I’m to be told if Mrs. Watkins of Nashville rings up during the next ten minutes. We’ll give her that long to take some action.” Sweetwater did as he was bid, then went back to his place in the lobby. But he returned almost instantly. “Mrs. Watkins has just telephoned down that she is going to —to leave, sir.” “To leave?” The old man struggled to his feet. “No. 712, do you say? Seven stories,” he sighed. But as he turned with a hobble, he stopped. “There are difficulties in the way of this Interview," he remarked. “A blush is not much to go upon. I’m afraid we shall have to resort to the shadow business and that is your w’ork, not mine.” But here the door opened and a boy brought in a line which had been left at the desk. It related to the very matter then engaging them, and ran thus:— “I see that Information is desired as to whether any person was seen to stoop to the lobby floor last night at or shortly after the critical moment of Miss Challoner’s fall in the half story above. I can give such information. I was in the lobby at the time, and in the height of the confusion following this alarming incident, I remember seeing a lady—one of the new arrivals (there were several coming in at the time) —stoop quickly down and pick up something from the floor. I thought nothing of it at the time, and so paid little attention to her appearance. I can only recall the suddenness with which she stooped and the color of the cloak she wore. It was red, and the whole garment was voluminous. If you wish further particulars—though in truth, I have io more to give, you can find me in room 356. “HENRY A. M’ELROY.” “Humph! This should simplify our task,” was Mr. Gryce’s comment, as he handed the note over to Sweetwater. “You can easily find out if the lady, now on the point of departure, can be identified with the one described by Mr. McElroy. If she can, I am ready to meet her anywhere.” And so it happened that just as Mrs. Watkins was watching the wheeling out of her trunks, there appeared in the doorway before her, an elderly gentleman, whose expression, always benevolent, save at moments when benevolence would be quite out of keeping with the situation, had for some reason, so marked an effect upon her, that she colored under his eye, and, indeed, showed such embarrassment, that ail doubt of the propriety of his intrusion vanished from the old man’s mind, and with the ease of one only too well accustomed to such scenes, he kindly remarked: “Am I speaking to Mrs. Watkins of Nashville?” “You are,” she faltered, with another rapid change of color. “I—l vn just leaving. I hope you will excuse me. I—” “I wish I could." be smiled, hobbling in and confronting her quietly In her own room. “But circumstances make

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it quite imperative that I should have a few words with you on a topic which need not be disagreeable to you, and probably will not be. My name is Gryce. A beautiful and charming young 'woman died here last night. May I ask if you knew her?” “I? I never saw the young lady. Why do you ask? I do not recognize your right. I—I—” Mr. Gryce made one of his low bow’s and prbpping himself against the table he stood before, remarked civilly: “I had rather not force my rights. I thought perhaps you could tell me something which would aid me in my effort to elicit the real facts of the case. You were crossing the lobby at the time —” “Yes.” She raised her head. “So were a dozen others—” “Madam” —the interruption w’as made in his kindliest tones, but in a way which nevertheless suggested au“Something was picked up from the floor at that moment. Am I not correct? Didn’t you see a certain person—l will mention no names—stoop and pick up something from the lobby floor?" “No.” The word came out with startling violence. But her lips quivered, and her cheeks were white, too white now for simple indignation. “Then I have made a big mistake,” apologized the ever-courteous detective. “Will you pardon me? It would have settled a very serious question if it could be found that the object thus picked up was the weapon which killed Miss Challoner. That is my excuse for the trouble I have given you.” The door burst open, and a young girl bounded into the room, with the merry cry: J “All ready, mother. I’m glad we are going to the Clarendon. I hate hotels where people die almost before your eyes?’ The cloak which enveloped the girl was red, and full enough to be called voluminous. “Who is this?” demanded the girl, her indignant glances flashing from one to the other. “I don’t, know’,” faltered the mother in very evident distress. “He says he has a right to ask us questions, and he has been asking questions about —about —” “Not about me,” laughed the girl, with a toss of her head. “He can have nothing to say about me.” And she began to move about the room in an aimless, half-insolent way. Mr. Gryce stared hard at the few remaining belongings of the two women, lying in a heap on the table, and half musingly, half deprecatingly, remarked : “The person w r ho stooped wore a long red ■ cloak. Probably you preceded your ■daughter, Mrs. Watkins.” The lady thus brought to the point made a quick gesture towards the girl who suddenly stood still, anti, with a rising color in her cheeks, answered, with some show of resolution on her own part: “You say your name is Gryce and tjhat you have a right to address me ihus pointedly on a subject which you Evidently regard as serious. That is hot exact enough for me. Who are yo‘u, sir? What is your business?” “I think you have guessed it. lam a detective from headquarters. Perhaps this young lady can tell me what you cannot.” “Caroline” —Then the mother broke down. “Show the gentleman what you picked up from the lobby floor last night.” The girl laughed again, loudly and with evident bravado, before she threw the cloak back and showed

Good Word for the Oyster,

London Lancet, Always Pessimistic, Comes Forward With a Surly Meed of Praise. When the Lancet, representative of the medical profession of Great Britain, says anything good about anything, it is listened to with emotions of mingled surprise and respect Some one has remarked that every time he picked up the Lancet he discovered he was doing something right along, or taking something that was surely killing him. It has a good word for the oyster just at the time when that apparently innocuous edible is exciting the scrutiny of our always feverish advisers, the bacteriologists. This distinguished, if usually alarmist, authority declares that the oyster is a “tonic of the first order, and a complete food, most beneficial to weakened patients and those in whom appetite is deficient.” Clinical results of a most favorable nature are reported where oysters are given to persons suffering from tuberculosis. If oysters are for the diet of persons in the ’ scribed, they must be wholesom ’ 'st of us. There was never u ■ >■ about this, of course, befor- bacteriologists sought to 1.1! i: of fear instead of oysters : . s a brave man who first at*. . according to the philosophy the breakfast table; and now the bacteriologists challenge our courage. The Lancet’s commendation should help to sustain timid souls at thi» crisis.—Providence Journal Over Alps by Automobile. It will soon be possible for the tourist to go over the Alps by automobile. AK the details bav arranged for the establishr. of an electric stage service, the amount involved in the purchase of equipment

what she had evidently been holding in her hand from the first, a sharp l pointed, gold-handled paper-cutter. “It was lying there and I picked it up. I don’t see any harm in that.” “You probably meant none. You couldn’t have known the part it had just played in this tragic drama,” said the" old detective, looking carefully at the cutter which he had taken in his hand. “You have washed this?” he asked. “No. Why should I wash it? It was clean enough. I was just going down to give it in at the desk.” And she turned aside to the window and began to hum, as though done with the whole matter. The old detective rubbed his chin, glanced again at the paper-cutter, then at the girl in the window, and lastly at the mother, who had lifted her head again and was facing him bravely. ’ . “It is very important,” he observed to the latter, “that your daughter should be correct in her statement as to the condition of *his article when she picked it up. Are you sure she did not wash it?” “I don’t think she did. But I’m sure she will tell you the truth about that. Caroline, this is a police matter. Any mistake about it may involve us in a world of trouble and keep you from getting back home in time for your coming-out party. Did you—did you wash this cutter when you got upstairs, or—-or —” she added, with a propitiatory glance at Mr. Gryce—“wipe it off at any time between then and now? Be sure.” “Mother, how ean I tell what I did?” flashed out the girl, wheeling round on her heel till she faced them booth “Such a lot of talk about a paltry thing- which couldn’t have cost ten dollars.” And she wheeled back. “It isn’t the value.” Mr. Gryce could be very patient. “It’s the fact that we believe it to have been answerable for Miss Challoner’s death —that is, if there was any blood on It when you picked it up.” “Blood!” The girl was facing them again, astonishment struggling with disgust on her plain but mobile features. “Blood! is that what you mean? Take it away,” she cried. “Blood!” she repeated in horror, flinging herself into her mother’s arms. Mr. Gryce thought he understood '' \Wp~~ ' — t ~ “Blood!” She Reiterated With Horror, Flinging Herself Into Her Mother’s Arms. the situation. Here was a little kleptomaniac whose weakness the mother was struggling to hide. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

and material and in good improvement being about a half million dollars. The line runs from Airolo by way of the Bedrefto valley and the Nufner pass, ending at Ulrlchen, in the Valais region, with a total length of twenty-five miles. Considerable work will need to be done in enlarging the routes so as to make them suitable for automobile traffic, and a bridge is to be built over the Tessin river. The new electric automobiles have capacity for twenty-two passengers and make the trip in two and one-quarter hours on ordinary and one and three-quarters on express service, running twelve to twentytwq miles an hour. Three trips will be made per day in each direction, during all seasons when there is no snow on the roads. Women in Finland’s Parliament. There are fourteen women in the Finnish Diet, as there the parliament is known, and one of their number. Dr. Thekla Hutlin, on a recent visit to London, expressed surprise that in enlightened England women had not yet been accorded the parliamentary franchise. She added some interesting facts about Finnish women M. P.’s. All members are paid a salary, but they lose it if absent without special leave, and are also fined 15 shillings a day. “I may say,” she went on, “that the women attend the sittings more regularly than the men. The women members have endeavor* ed to bring about improvements in women’s position, especially In its legal and economic aspect. Bills introduced by women have been concerned with the rising of the age of consent, securing equality of the wife with the husband in the control of the children, motherhood insurance, the right of women to enter the legal profession. and so forth.” _ ,

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WAS DOWN ON ‘STIMMYLANTS’ Evidently Good Wife Didn't Mean Jim to Take Anything That He Wasn’t Used to. $ “I think, madam,” said the professionally polite young doctor to the wife of his first patient in the backwoods of a decidedly nonprohibition state, ‘‘l think that your husband needs a good stimulant of some sort and I will leave for him some—"» ‘‘No, sir!” she said, with marked decision. “You ain’t a-goin’ to leave Jim no stimmylants like kl-nine or tinksher of iron nor that malt stuff some folks takes nowadays without knowin’ what it’ll do to their systems. Me an’ Jim is both down on all stimmylants. I’m goin’ to fix him up a quart or so o’ good rye whisky to take first thing in the mornin’, an’ I’ll stir him up a good, strong whisky eggnog at noon, and let him have a steamin’ hot brandy punch along in the middle o’ the afternoon, an’ give him a glass o’ wild grape wine at night; but as for stimmylants, he ain’t goin’ to take none of ’em, long as I can help it” — Judge. Easily Satisfied. It takes very little water to make a perfect pool for a tiny fish, where it will find Its world and paradise all in one, and never have a presentiment of the dry bank. —George Eliot. Etymological Dispute. “A chefonyear is a sort of bureau." "Tain’t nothin’ of the kind. It’s • man what drives an auto.” CLOUDED*! RAIN Clears Up on Change to Proper Food. The brain cannot work with clearness and accuracy, if the food taken is not fully digested, but is retained in the stomach to ferment and form poisonous gases, etc. A dull, clouded brain is likely to be the result. A Mich, lady relates her experience in changing her food habits, and results are very interesting: “A steady diet of rich, greasy foods such as sausage, buckwheat cakes and so on, finally broke down a stomach and nerves that, by inheritance, were sound and strong, and medicine did no apparent good in the way of relief. ‘‘My brain was clouded and dull and I was suffering from a case of constipation that defied all remedfes used. “The ‘Road to Wellville,’ in some providential way, fell Into my hands, and may Heaven’s richest blessings fall on the man who was inspired to write it. “I followed directions carefully, the physical culture and all, using GrapeNuts with sugar and cream, leaving meat,, pastry and hot biscuit entirely out of my bill of fare. The result — I am in perfect health once more. *T never realize I have nerves, and my stomach and bowels are in fine condition. My brain Is perfectly clear and I am enjoying that state of health which God intended his creatures should enjoy and which all might have, by giving proper attention to their food.” Name given by Postum Co.. Battle Creek, Mich. Read “The Road to Wellville.” in pkgs. “There’s a reason.” ■ver read the abeve letter? A aew me aeeeara from time to time. They ■re geaalMOb tree, aad fall of humaa