The Syracuse Journal, Volume 7, Number 6, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 4 June 1914 — Page 4

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Ik tee OF JENNIE I By MARY ROBERTS RINEHART ! . ■ Copyright. 1913, by the BobU-MetrUi Company ! Ihad been examining the wall paper * about the washstand. Among the ink i spots were one or two reddish ones i that made me shiver. And seeing .a ' scrap of note paper stuck between the : base board and the wall I dug It out i with a hairpin and threw it into the 1 i grate, to be burned later, it was by 1 i the merest chance there was no fire ' there. The next moment Mr. Hol- i combe was on his knees by the fire- I place reaching for the scrap. “Never do that under such clrcum- I stances,” he snapped, fishing among the ashes. “You might throw aWay 1 valuable — Hello, Howell!” I turned and saw a young man in the doorway, smiling, his hat in his hand. Even at that first glance I I liked Mr. Howell, and later, when every one was against him and many ‘ curious things were developing, 1 stood by him through everything and even ! helped him to the thing he wanted i more than anything else in the world. But that, of coiu'se, was later. “What’s the trouble, Holcombe?” he ' asked. “Hitting the trail again?” i "A very curious thing that I just > happened on," said Mr. Holcombe. “Mrs. Pitman, this is Mr. Howell, of whom I spoke. Sit down, Howell, and let me read you something.” With the crumpled paper still unopened in his hand, Mr. Holcombe took his notebook and read aloud what he had written. 1 have it before me now: “ ‘Dog meat, $2, boat hire’—that’s not it Here. ‘Yesterday, Sunday, March 4, Mrs. Pitman, landlady at 42 Union street, heard two of her boarders quarreling, a man and his wife. Man’s name, Philip Ladley. Wife’s name, Jennie Ladley, known as Jennie Brice at the Liberty Stock company, where she has been playing small parts.’ ” Mr. Howell nodded. “I’ve heard of her,” he said. “Not much of an actress, I believe." “ ‘The husband was also an actor. [ out of work, and employing his leisure ' time in writing a play.’" “Everybody’s doing it,” said Mr. j Howell idly. "The Shuberts were to star him in this,” I put in. “He said that . the climax at the end of the second act”— ! Mr. Holcombe shut his notebook with a snap. “After we have finished gossiping,” he said, “I’ll go on.” I “ ‘Employing his leisure time in I writing a play,’ ” quoted Mr. Howell. “Exactly. ‘The husband and wife | were not on good termfc. They quar- | reled frequently. On Sunday they I fought all day, and Mrs. Ladley told Mrs. Pitman she was married to a fiend. At 4 o'clock Sunday afternoon Philip Ladley went out. returniuji ibout 5- Mrs. Pitman carried their mppee to them at G. and both ate I heartily. She did not see Mrs. Ladley at the time, but beard her in the next room. They w’ere apparently recoucil ed. Mrs. Pitman reports Mr. Ladley in high good humor. If the quarrel recommenced during the night the oth er boarder, named Reynolds, in the next room heard nothing. Mrs. Pit man was up and down until 1 o'clock, when she dozed off. She heard no tin usual sound. ‘“At approximately 2 o’clock in the morning, however, this Reynolds came to the room and said he had heard some one in a boat in the lower ball. He and Mrs. Pitman investigated. The boat, which Mrs. Pitman uses during a flood and which she had tied to the stab rail was gone, having been cut loose, not "untied. Everything else was quiet, except that Mrs. Ladley’s dog had been shut in a third story room. “ ‘At a quarter after 4 that morning Mrs. Pitman, thoroughly awake, heard the boat returning and, going to the stairs, met Ladley coming in. He muttered something about having gone for medicine for his wife and went to his room, shutting the dog out This is worth attention, for the dog ordinarily slept in their room.’ ” “What sort of a dog?” asked Mr. Howell. He had been listening attentively. “A water spaniel. ‘The rest of the _ night or early morning was quiet. At a quarter after 7 Ladley asked for coffee and toast for one. and on Mrs. Pitman remarking this said that his wife , was not playing this week and had ; gone for a few days’ vacation, having left early in the morning.’ Remember, ■ during the night he "had been out for medicine for her. Now she was able ; to travel and, in fact, had started.” Mr. Howell was frowning at the floor. “If he was doing anything ? wrong, he was doing it very badly,” he said. * “This is where I entered the case,” said Mr. Holcombe. “I rowed into the ;1 lower hall this morning to feed the ii dog Peter, who was whining on the staircase. Mrs. Pitman was coming down, pale and agitated over the fact that the dog shortly before had found floating in the parlor downstairs a slipper belonging to Mrs. Ladley and later > a knife.with a broken blade. She mainI tains that she had the knife last night k upstairs, that it was not broken and f that |t was taken from a shelf in her E room while she dozed. The question f is, then, Why was the knife taken? k Who took it and why? Has this man r made away with his wife or has he I not?” I JMr. Howell looked at me and smlleg. "A.

“Mr. Holconlbe and I are ehemlee," he said. “Ulr. Holcombe believes that circumstantial evidence may probably hang a man; I do not" And to Mr. Holcombe* “So, having found a wet slipper and n broken knife, you are prepared for murder and sudden death!" “I have more evidence," Mr. Holcombe said eagerly, and proceeded to tell what we had found in the room. Mr. Howell listened, smiling to himself, but at the mention of the onyx clock he got up and to the mantel. “By Jove!" he said and stood looking at the in the dust “Are you sure the clock was here yesterday ?” “1 wound it night before last and put the key underneath. Yesterday, before they moved up, 1 wound It again.” i “The key is gone also. Well, what of it, Holcombe? Did be brain her with the clock or choke her with the key?" Mr. Holcombe' was looking at his notebook. “To summarize,” he said, “we have here as clews indicating a crime, the rope, the broken knife, the slipper, the towel and the clock. Besides. this scrap of paper may contain some information." He opened it and sat gazing at it in bls palm. Then. “Is this Ladley’s writing?" he asked me in a curious Voice. I “Yes.” 1 1 glanced at the slip. Mr. Holcombe had just read from his notebook: ■ “Rope, knife, slipper, towel, clock.” The slip I had found behind the i washstand said “Rope, knife, shoe, I towel. Horn”— The rest of the last word was torn off. Mr. Howell wafe staring at the mantel. “Clock!” he. repeated. CHAPTER IV.

IT was after four when Mr. Holcomb* had finished goixig over the room. I offered to I make both the gentlemen

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some tea, for Mr. Pitman bad been an Englishman, and 1 had got into the habit of having a cupful In the afternoon, with a cracker or a bit of bread. But they refused; Mr. Howell said be had premised to meet a lady, and to bring her through the flooded district in a boat. He shook bands with me and smiled at Mlt Holcombe. “You will have to restrain his enthusiasm, Mrs. Pitman,” he said. “He is a bloodhound on the scent. If his baying gets oii jiour nerves just send for me.” He went down the stairs and stepi>ed into the boat “Remember, Holcombe," he called, “every well constituted murder has two things—a motive and a You haven’t either, only a mass of piffling details.”— “If everybody iwaited until he saw flames instead of relying on the testimony of the smoke,” Mr. Holcombe snapped, “what would the Tire loss be?” Mr. HoWell poled his boat to the front door and, sitting down, prepared to row out “You are warned, Mrs. Pitman,” he called to me. “If he doesn’t find a body to fit the clews he’s quite capable of making one to fill the demand." “Horn”— said Mr. Holcombe, looking at the slip again. “The tail of the ‘n’ is torn off—Evidently only part of a word. Hornet Horning,>Horner— Mrs. Pitman, will you go with me to the police station?" I was more than anxious to go. In fact I could not bear the Idea of staying alone in the bouse, with heaven only knows what concealed iu the depths of that muddy flood. I got on my wraps again, and Mr. Holcombe rowed me out Peter plunged into the water to follow .and had to be sent back. He sat on the lower step and whined. Mr. Holcombe threw him another piece of flver, but he did not touch it. We rowed to the corner of Robinson - — -Th - - - street and Federal—it was before Federal street was raised above the flood level—and left the boat in charge of a boy there. And,we walked to the police station. On the way Mr. Holcombe questioned me closely about the eVents of the morning, -and I recalled the incident of the burned pillow slip. He made a note of it at once and grew very thoughtful. He left me, hbwever, at the police station. “I’d rather not appear in this, Mrs. Pitman,” he said apologetically, “and I think better along my own lines—not that I have anything against the police; they’ve done some splendid work. But thia case takes imagination, and the police department deals with facts. We have no facts yet., What we need, ;of course, is to have the man detained jmtil we are sure of our case.” He lifted his hat and turned away, and I went slowly up the steps to the police station. Living, as I had, in a neighborhood where the police, like the poor, are always with us, and where the visits of the patrol wagon are one of those familiar sights that no amount of repetition enabled any of us to treat with contempt,. I was uncomfortable until I remembered that my grandfather had been one of the first mayors pf the city and that, if the patrol had been at my house more than once, the entire neighborhood would testify that my boarders were usually orderly. At the door some one touched me on the arm. It was Mr. Holcombe again. “1 have been thinking It over,” he said, “and I believe you’d better not mention the piece of paper that you I found behind the washstand. They ' might say the whole thing is a hoax." “Very well," I agreed, and went in. The police sergeant in chtfrge knew me at once, having stopped at my bouse more than once in flood time fox , a cup of hot coffee. I “Sit down, Mrs. Pitman,” he said. “I suppose you are still making the best coffee and doughnuts in the city of Allegheny? Well, what’a the trouble in your district? Want an injunction against the river for trespass?” *“The river has brought me a good bit of trouble,” I said. “I’m—l’m worried, Mr. Sergeant I think a woman from my house has been murdered, but I don’t know." “Murdex-ed!" be said, and drew up his chair. “Tell me about it" I told him everything, while he sat back with his eyes half closed and his fingers beating a tattoo on the arm of . When I finished he got up and went into an inner room. He came back in j ajlpmeaL _

. “T to come In and tell that t to the chief,” he said, and led the way. . All told, 1 repeated my story three times that afternoon—to the sergeant,! J to the chief of police and the third ■ time to both the others and two de-; tectives. . The second time the chief made notes I ( of what I said. “Know this man Ladley?” he asked the others. None of them did, but they all knew of Jennie Brice and some of them bad seen her in the theater. “Get the theater, Tom," the chief , said to one of the detectives. ‘ Luckily what he learned over the telephone from the theater corroborated my story. Jennie Brice was not ’ in the cast that week, but should have reported that morning (Monday) to reI 1 * 1 ill jji I I Told Him Everything. hearse the next week’s piece. No message had been received from her and a substitute had been put in her place. The chief hung up the receiver and turned to me. “You are sure about the clock, Mrs. Pitman?” he asked. “It i was there when they moved upstairs to the room?" “Yes, sir.” “You are certain you will not find it on the parlor mantel when the water goes down ?” “The mantels are uncovered now. It is not there.” i “You think Ladley has gone for i good?” “Yes, sir.” » “He’d be a fool to try to run away, I unless—Graves, you’d better get hold . of the fellow, and keep him until i either the woman is found or the body. The river is falling. In a couple of i days we will know if she is around the premises anywhere." Before 1 left I described Jennie Brice ’■ for them carefully. Asked what she probably wore, if she had gone away as her husband said. I had no idea; , she had a lot of clothes, and dressed a good bit. But I recalled that I had i Seen lying on the bed the black and white dress with the red collar, and i they took that down, as well as the ! brown valise. i The chief rose and opened the door > for me himself. “If she actually left ■ town at the time you mention,” he said, “she ought not to be hard to find. There are not many trains before 7 in the morning, and most of them are locals.” “And—and if she did not, if he—do i you think she is in the house—or—or—the cellar?" “Not unless Ladley is more of a fool I than I think he is,” he said, smiling. 1 “Personally I believe she has gone ’ away, as he says she did. But if she s hasn’t— He probably took the body * with him when he said he was getting ' medicine and dropped it in the current * somewhere. But we must go slow with r all this. There’s no use shouting ‘wolf yet” i “But—the towel?" » “He may have cut himself shaving. ’ It has been done.” J “And the knife?" ■ He shrugged his shoulders good na- ’ turedly. “I’ve seen a perfectly good knife 9 spoiled opening a bottle of pickles.’’ “But the slipper? And the clock?" 9 “My good woman, enough shoes and ’ slippers are forgotten in the bottoms of cupboards year after year In food ' time and are found floating around the E streets to make all the old clothes men 8 in town happy. I have seen almost e everything floating about during one of 6 these annual floods.” e “I dai-e say you never saw an onyx 1 clock floating around,” I replied a little 1 sharply. I had no sense of humor that e day. He stopped smiling at once and l ' stood tugging at his mustache. 8 “No," he admitted. “An onyx clock 3 sinks, that’s true. That’s a very nice 8 little point, that onyx clock. He may t be trying to sell it or perhaps”— He did not finish. n I went back immediately, only stopt. ping at the market to get meat for Mr. e Reynolds’ supper. It was after half t past 5, and dusk was coming on. 1 u got a boat and was rowed directly y home. Peter was not at the foot of the ” steps. I paid the boatman and let him i. go and turned to go up the stairs, v Some one was speaking in the hall y above. i I have read somewhere that no two voices ay e exactly alike, just as no 1 two violins ever produce .the same t sound. I think it is what they call I- the timbte that is different I have, □ for instance, never heard a voice like □ Mr. Pitman’s, although Mr. Harry Lauder’s In a phonograph resembles a it. And voices have always done for .. me what odors do for some people, re--0 vived forgotten scenes and old memt ories. But the memory that the voice at the head of the stairs brought back , p was not very old, although I had forgotten it. I seemed to hear again all t at once the lapping of the water Sunday morning as it began to come in . over the doorsill; the sound of Terry ripping up the parlor carpet and Mrs. Ladley calling me a she devil in the 1 next room, in reply to this very voice. D _Bnt when I got to the top of the

stairs ft was only Mr. Howell, who had brought his visitor to the flood district, and on getting her splashed with the muddy water had taken her : to my house for a towel and a cake of | soap. ; 1 lighted the lamp in the hall and I Mr. Howell Introduced the girl. She was a pretty girl, slim and young, and she had taken her wetting good naturedly. “I know we are Intruders. Mrs. Pitman," she said, holding out her hand. “Especially now, when you are in trouble." “I have told Miss Harvey a little." Mr. Howell said, “and I promised to show her Peter, but he is not here." I think I had known it was my sister’s child from the moment 1 lighted the lamp. There Was something of Alma in her, not Alma's hardness or haughtiness, but Alma’s dark blue eyes with black lashes, and Alma’s nose. Alma was always the beauty of the family. What with the day’s excitement and seeing Alma’s child like this, in my house. 1 felt things going round and clutched at the stair rail. Mr. Howell caught me. “Why, Mrs. Pitman!" be said. “What’s the matter?” I got myself in hand iu a moment apd smiled at the girl. “Nothing at all.” I said. “Indigestion, most likely. Too much tea the last day or two and not enough solid food. I’ve been too anxious to eat” Lida—for she was that to me at once, although 1 had never seen her before—Lida was all sympathy aud sweetness. She actually asked me to go with her to a restaurant and have a real dinner. 1 could imagine Alma, had she known! But I excused myself. “I have to cook something for Mr. Reynolds," I said, “and I’m better now, anyhow, thank you. Mr. Howell, may I speak to you for a moment?" He followed me along the back hall, which was dusk. “I have remembered something that I had forgotten. Mr. Howell,” I said. “On Sunday morning the Ladleys had a visitor.” “Yes?" “They had very few visitors." “I see.” “I did not see him, but I heard his voice.” Mr. Howell did not move, but I fancied he drew bis breath.in quickly. “It sounded—it was not by any chance you?” “I? A newspaper man, who goes to bed at 3 a. m. on Sunday morning, up and about at 10!’ “I didn’t say what time it was." 1 said sharply. But at that moment Lida called from the front hall. “I think I hear Peter.” she said. “He is shut in somewhere, whining.” We went forward at once. She was right Peter was scratching at the door of Mr. Ladley’s room, although 1 had left the door closed and Peter in the hall. I let him out. and he crawled to me on three legs, whimpering. Mr. Howell bent over him and felt the fourth. “Poor little beast!’’ he said. “His leg is broken.” He made a splint for the dog, and with Lida helping they put him to bed in a clothes basket in my upstairs kitchen. It was easy to see how things lay with Mr. Howell. He was all eyes for her. He made excuses to touch her hand or her arm, little caressing touches that made her color heighten. And with it all there was a sort of hopelessness in his manner, as if he knew how far the girl was out of his reach. Knowing Alma and her pride, I knew better than they how hopeless it was. I was not so sure about Lida. I wondered if she was in love with the boy or only in love with love. She was very young, as I had been. God help her if, like me. she sacrificed everything to discover too late that she was only in love with love.

CHAPTER V. |R. REYNOLDS did not come I home to dinner at all. The I water had got into the baseI ment at the store, he tele-

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phoned, one of the flood gates in a sewer having leaked, and they were moving some of the departments to an lipper floor. 1 had expected to have him in the house that evening, and now I was left alone again. But, as it happened, I was not alone. Mr. Graves, one of the city detectives, came at half past 6 and went carefully over the Ladleys’ room. 1 showed hirft the towel and the slipper and the broken knife and where we had found the knife blade. He was very noncommittal and left in a half hour, taking the articles with him in a newspaper. At 7 the doorbell rang. 1 went down as far as 1 could on the staircase, and I saw a boat outside the door, with the boatman and a woman in it I called to them to bring the boat back along the hall, and 1 had a queer feeling that it might be Mrs. Ladley and that I’d been making a fool of myself all day for nothing. But it was not Mrs. Ladley. • “Is this No. 42?” asked the woman, as the boat came back. “Yes.” “Does Mr. Ladley live here?’ “Yes. But he is not here now.” “Are you Mrs. Pittock?” “Pitman, yes.” The boat bumped against tbfe stairs, t and the woman got out. She was as ' tall as Mrs. Ladley. and when 1 saw her in the light from the upper hall 1 knew- her instantly. It was Temple Hope, the leading woman from the Liberty theater. “1 would like to talk to you, Mrs. Pitman,” she said. “Where can we go?” 1 led the way back to my room, and when she had followed me in she turned and shut the door. “Now, then,” she said without any preliminary, “where is Jennie Brice?” “I don’t know, Miss Hope,” 1 answered. 1 We looked at each other for a minute, and each of us saw what the other suspected. (To be ct ntiuued—) „ —Underwear for every member of the family. A. W. Strieby & Son.

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