Storyteller.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 49, 3 March 1894, Page 13

Storyteller.

THE THIRD MAN,

(By J. Gr. Bethune, author of “The Eye of Hercules,” " The Cypher E,” etc.)

[all bights besekved.] ■ CHAPTER I. ONE AUTUMN NIGHT. Judge Arthur Hollywood, Doctor. Abijah Gardner, and Mr Ashton Wahnsley sat conversing l one autumn night in the library of the first-named gentleman. It was noteworthy that the ages of the three individuals did not vary to the extent of four months. The judge was the senior, having passed the half century milestone three years before, with the doctor on his heels, and Mr Walmsley less than sixty days to the real-. These men were old friends and associates, whose walks, so widely at variance in life, did not prevent them from appreciating each other’s worth, and made these infrequent meetings amongst the most enjoyable episodes of a bus}" existence. The judge’s “ Perfectos ” were unexceptionable, and, as the three sat in easy postures about the luxurious apartment, they indulged in reminiscences, mutually entertaining, but which were scarcely interesting enough to call for record in these pages. The chat had continued until well towards midnight, and the judge was in the middle of an amusing story of his college days, when he abruptly checked himself. The others knew the cause, for at that moment the} r heard someone walk lightly and hurriedly across the floor directly overhead. It was the apartment of Mrs Hollywood, that of her husband immediately adjoining. “ Pardon me for a few minutes,” said the judge, laying down his cigar, and passing hastily from the room. He closed the door behind him, but the creaking of the stairs the next moment showed that he was ascend-.

ing the steps. The noise of the opening door overhead and a slight ' disturbance located the gentleman as clearly as if he had remained within their field of vision. “ 1 wonder whether Mrs Hollywood is ill,” said Walmsley, in an undertone. “ I trust not,” replied the doctor, who, as may be supposed, was the family physician of the j udge. “ Still, she has been subject to nervous attacks for the past fortnight or so — ah ! here comes the judge himself.” As the door of the library was pushed inward and their host entered, the eyes of the others were turned inquiringly towards him. His face was slightly pale, as was natural, when summoned away by what was undeniably a startling occurrence. “ Mrs Hollywood was restless, and rose to open the window. The weather is mild, and like us all she is fond of pure air.” The judge walked to the side of the room and lowered one of the windows to allow further escape of the vapour, which had become quite dense in the library. He stood a minute, gazing out on the still night, ’with the full moon shining over the tree tops in the grounds of his tine residence. Then he turned and walked back to the stand where he had laid his cigar, lighted a moment before he passed upstairs.

Dr. Gardner was in the act of lighting his own weed, and handed the twisted ribbon of paper to him. “ Thanks,” murmured the judge, reaching for the taper. As he took it his hand touched those of the physician, who, the next instant, removed his own cigar from his lips, that he might speak more freely. His fingers, thus brought close to his face, emitted a faint, subtle perfume, which he will remember to his dying day.

Having been assured that his professional services were not likely to

be neeeded, the doctor reminded the judge of the anecdote on which he was engaged at; the moment of interruption. “ Ah, yes,” said the jurist, with a smile which struck the observant Walmsley as peculiar; “the story is trifling, though it wa,s highly interesting to me at the time. - I mly as veil finish it since I have gone so far.” And finish it he did, with such clever narration that his listeners pronounced it the best that had been related that evening. He seemed to catch the spirit of fun himself, and laughed at the recollection of the pranks he committed in his youimer days, when no one could have dreamed that a generation was sufficient to transform him into the grave, sober judge who was scarcely ever known fo smile when on the bench. The echoes of merriment were still sounding in the room when some object, apparently a chaix-, was heard to fall in the apartment overhead. The three started and looked; at each other. “ Doctor,” said the judge, “ will you oblige me by looking in on Mrs Hollywood. I fear she is in need of your services. Gall me if. you think it best. You know the way to her room.” The medical gentleman bowed as he flung aside his cigar, and briskly left the room, partly closing the door behind him. "everal of the steps of the stairs creaked and located him to his friends. They heard him knock on the door of the sleeping apartment and enter the next moment.

Walmsley thought it strange that the judge did not first go to his wife’s room, but it was not his place to make remark. “ I trust the doctor is not needed •” The judge raised his hand as a request for silence. The two listened, the judge leaning forward in his chair, as if expecting a summons to join-the physician. - - ■ ■ ■ Some two or three minutes passed after the doctor entered the sleeping apartment, when Judge Hollywood and Mr Walmsley heard him softly close the door that had been left open. Then he walked part way across the room as if to a mantel or table. He stood motionless a second or two, when his steps were noticed again. The number being about the same as before, the inference was that he had returned to the point from which he started, and which was near the head of the bed. How followed perhaps one or two minutes of absolute stillness, broken only by the faint, uneven sound which caused Walmsley to think — “ The doctor is standing beside the pillow of Mis Hollywood ; he is administering to her, and naturally shifts his feet slightly ; it is that which we hear.” The next footsteps resembled those noted at first; they were quick and extended as far as before. They hardly ceased when the physician was heard moving, but this time in another direction. The noise overhead seemed to show that after returning to the mantel he had gone in the direction of the two windows. “ He is about to raise them for more air,” concluded Walmsley, “ but he is mighty quiet about it; he doesn’t wish to disturb her.” Neither the judge nor his friend, listening closely, could catch any sound like that made by the raising or lowering of a sash. “ He is looking out upon the night,” thought Walmsjey ; “ it is a beautiful autumn evening, and the judge also stood there for a while to enjoy it.” Meanwhile Walmsley a*as dividing his interest between his ears and eyes told him. He never saw the judge more profoundly interested, and the emotion was intensifying. Leaning his elbow on the table in front, he held his left hand, funnelshaped, to his ear, and forgot the friend who was watching him. The doctor seemed to stand, by the window a full minute, which, under

the strained circumstances, seemed tenfold as long. Then he stepped briskly back to the bedside, and the jndge, in the poignancy of his excitement, half rose to his feet with his body crouching forward. “ Why in the mischief doesn’t he go to her room ?” thought Walmsley. There is no reason for his staying here.”

“ Judge ! Judge ! come here, quick,” sounded from above, as the door of the bedroom opened ; “ Mrs Hollywood is dead!”

“ That wasn’t Dr Gardner’s voice,” exclaimed Walmsley, as he darted after the judge, who went up the stairs in a panic. CHAPTER IT. AN AMATEUR’S EFFORT. Dr. A bij ah Gardner possessed wonderful nerve, even for a physician who had been in continuous practice for thirty years. While a student, he acquired the reputation of an ironlike indifference to human suffering. It was he who once made ready to dissect the body of a giant negro, when the fellow came unexpectedly to life and drove the other terrified students from the dissecting room. Young Gardner calmly laid down his knife, stepped over to where his coat was hanging, took out a cigar, and walking back to the dazed African, invited him to smoke. “ It’s a good one,” he added, “ and I think you’ve earned it.”

It was a rule with the doctor never to “ rush things,” no matter how urgent the case, for he conceived it more important that he should arrive at the bedside of his patient perfectly cool and free from physical agitation than that he should save a few minutes by headlong haste. When he passed out of Judge Hollywood’s library, he went up the stairs a step a time, and with his shoulders well back so as to save his breath. The door of Mrs Hollywood’s room was closed, and he gently knocked. •There was .no nresponse, and ... haturned the knob and shoved it open. “ Something’s wrong here,” was his conclusion, though he did not see anything amiss at the first glance. That which caused the thought was an overturned chair near the bed. The electric light ( recently placed in the judge’s home) was burning brightly, and everything in the apartment was as clearly defined as at noonday. He stooped over, righted the chair, and placed it near the head of the bed, which was close to the door. Then he sat dowm and looked at the face of the lady, who had failed to reply to his knock. The first glance at the white countenance told him she was dead. Mrs Hollywood had been a woman of extraordinary beauty, a pronounced brunette, with hair and eyes of raven blackness, even features, and exquisitely moulded figure and limbs. One arm lay outside the coverlet, which was drawn up to the neck. She was lying on her back, with her face turned partly to one side. The expression indicated that there had been a moment of extreme suffering when passing away. It must have been then that some involuntary struggle overturned the chair near the bed. Taking the hand in his own, and feeling for the lifeless pulse, he noticed that the body was still warm. Death could have taken place but a few minutes before. She was the second wife of Judge Hollywood, his first having died childless ten years previously, and and the present one, who was less than half his age, had been a bride but a few months. The doctor uttered no outcry, but proceeded at once to learn the cause of her death. There was no need to call the judge. He could give no help, and, in the excitement, was likely to retard other efforts in that direction. Only a few minutes were necessary to learn what he wished, besides which he had a faint hope that she might not be gone beyond recall. “ Ah, that’s it ! ”

The keen eye of the medical man had discovered something. Distiifctly impressed on that lovely neck were the marks of three fingers and; a thumb. The latter was on the right side (as the body lay), while the imprints of the fingers were on the left, that is furthest removed from where the doctor stood. Relating teethe body itself, these marks were in reverse order, those of the fingers being on the right of the neck, and that of the thumb on the left. “ She has been strangled,” whispered the doctor ; “ there is no doubt on that point. Who did it /” It was here the medical man gave a proof of his amazing nerve. Instead of summoning the men below, he quietly passed his hand over the face and neck, assured himself the heart had ceased to beat, and that death had takea place a brief while before, though the period was long enough to make it absolute, when he stood up and looked around the room.

“ Where is it ? I saw it here this afternoon when I called —ah ! that's good.”

He stepped briskly the mantel and took down the kodak about which he had conversed with Mrs Hollywood that very afternoon, when she showed him some of the views she had taken, and remarked that the instrument was ready for more, which she hoped to secure on the morrow if the weatherremained fair.

The doctor had acquainted himself with its working long before, for his own son and daughter owned an excellent apparatus, with which they had.... captured a likeness of about everything in the neighbourhood. As coolly as when talking in the library below, he came back to the head of the bed. Laying the instrument on the coverlet, he raised the shoulders of the body and braced it in an erect position by means of the pillowy. The camera was then adjusted as if to take a presentment of the face, but, instead of doing so, hebrought it as close as he could. Then, with his left hand so held as to man;~age r r rnTreached out his right, and with his thumb and forefinger opened one of the beautiful eyes to its widest extent. It was directly at the pupil that the lens of the camera was pointed when the button was pressed and the impression taken. It is known that the retina of a man or animal retains for a short time the last impression made upon it. In the event of sudden death, this image is distinct for a minute or two, rapidly growing hazy and faint, until at the end of ten, fifteen, or possibly twenty minutes no impression remains. Could the retina of a person be photographed two or three minutes after death it would reveal the final object on which the dead person looked, and in the cnse of crime might prove an invaluable aid in identifying the criminal. Hone but a man with the unprecedented coolness of Dr Gardner would have thought of this recourse, when he saw that the woman before him had been strangled to death hut a short time previous. Little was favourable to the success of the ingenious scheme. The image, which he sought to catch, was fast fading from the expansion of the optic nerve, and was probably already too indistinct to be reproduced. There was no sunlight in the room, and, though the electric light was brilliant, it was far inferior to day. The doctor had no assistant, and with all his knowledge and skill was liable to commit some fatal oversight through inexperience. But he did the best he knew how, and with incredible selfpossession.

“ I’m sorry I didn’t take lessons off Alf and Laura,” he muttered; “ I would have done it had I anticipated anything like this.” “ He walked to the mantel, where he deposited the kodak with the sensitive plate within. The experiment was done, so far as he was concerned, and he had no intention of repeating it. The story it should tell, if, indeed, it told any, was for the future. He returned to the bed and placed the lifeless figure in the position it

lield when he first looted upon it. This was easy, for the rigour had not yet perfected itself. He adjusted the pillows, and a brief while was sufficient to place everything as it was before. And then, singularly enough, Dr Gardner looked round for traces of the assassin. So far as he could judge, nothing had been distipft>ed in the room, with the single exception of the overturned chair, and for that he had already accounted. Both windows at the rear of the room were opened to the fullest extent, and a large man could come through either without difficulty. The doctor walked to one and looked out. Both opened on the •sloping roof of a wing of the structure, the shingles of which were barely three feet below the window sill, while the overhanging branches of a sturdy oak opened the way for the easiest possible entrance of a stealthy marauder. “ That’s been his course.” said the physician, pausing in the full glow of the illumination behind him; “he •ntered like a phantom through one of these windows, did the deed, and then stole out as noiselessly as he came in. I shouldn’t wonder if now, while I’m trying to get a glimpse of him, he is standing out there somewhere among the trees and surveying me.” The thought would have made any other man nervous; but, reflecting that nothing was to be gained by his present course, the doctor turned back into the room. His close attention told him that the men downstairs were silent and also listening. In obedience to a curious impulse, he now moved about so stealthily that nothing was heard below. The door leading to the judge’s apartment was open, and a single light was burning. Passing within, he turned on several and looked around. “ He hasn’t been in hei-e,” was the quick decision, referring to the fearful visitor; “it w r as she that he was after, and he did his w ork only too well.” Standing in the middle of the room, he peered around with the keenness of a professional detective, but saw nothing upon which to hang the slightest suspicion. u The evidence may be here,’ 4 he thought, “ but it will take more experienced eyes than mine to discover it—but •why didn’t I think f This is just the business for Walmsley.” With that he passed out into the hall and shouted to Judge Hollywood, purposely changing his voice, so that the startled detective wrongly attributed it to another person. CHAPTER 111. a week late;:. A week has passed, and the great world swung along as usual, and as it will till the crack of doom, no matter how 7 many hearts may break, what woe may come, and what disasters may befall. The body of Mrs Hollywood had been laid away in the earth, and the stricken husband took up the burden of life again, bowed by a grief which he manfully-strove to keep to iimself. and which he felt would become unbearable if he sat down, folded . his hands, and brooded over his sorrow. It was at his wish that neither ■ Dr Gardner nor Ashton Walmsley. his closest friends, told the secret of j the fakirs' off of his beloved wife. j

“It will do no good for the world to know that she was cruelly murdered in Lor bed,” said he, “ and it will bieak the heart of her mother.” So it was given out that she had died suddenly, and there was no one to question, riie verdict of the wellknown physician, who had been present at the majority of births and deaths in Clayton. He would have refused the favour to anyone except .Fudge Hollywood, for the deception was one for which he might have been called to account by the strict law.

He saw no reason for declining the request of the eminent member of the bench, inasmuch as the fact was known

to Walmsley, one of the most skilled detectives, who could pursue his investigations untrammelled by the interfering efforts of others. ' Two men, therefore, besides; the judge, held the secret, not taking into account the assassin himself. Ashton Walmsley was a bachelor, whose profession was known in Clayton only to his two friends. He possessed ample means for his own support in comfort, and had lived and moved among; the townfolk for a score cf years, without their suspecting that his occasional long absences was that of ferreting out crime. He justly maintained that the first essential of a detective’s success is secrecy as to his identity, and that the officer who unnecessarily takes others into bis confidence, not only neglects the rudiments of bis profession, but' adopts the surest means to defeat bis own purposes. The week brought some interesting facts to light. The wdfe of Judge Hollywood was the only child of an aged widow living in Hew York. Upon this venei'able lady the judge settled an annuity sufficient to maintain her in comfort for the rest of her days. A large insurance on the life of his wife had lapsed one month before her death, and the husband failed to renew 7 it, since he saw no necessity for so doing. His own ample means were so well invested that in the event of his death, his widow would be w r ell taken care of.

The investigations made by Detective Walmsley, on the day succeeding the crime, seemed to establish beyond denial other truths : the assassin had climbed the oak adjoining the w r ing of the building, had stealthily made his w ay over the sloping roof, entered through the open window, crept to the side of the sleeping w’oman, and, w r ith his irresistible pressure on the fair throat, shut out the breath of life for ever. By way of proof, there w r ere slight abrasions on the window-sill, on the shingles, and on the bark of the tree. Hay, further, several indentations on the ground at the base of the trunk left no doubt that they were made by the feet of a person. This, then, was clearly the course of the miscreant in entering and leaving the house of Judge Hollywood on that fateful evening.

But the puzzling question remained, not only as to tvho had slain the young Avife, but why it had been done. The first truth or clue sought by Jaw is the motiA r e of the criminal, and the identity of the offender can never be considei’ed as established until a reasonable explanation of his purpose is brought to light. The most obvious theory Avas that in wedding his young Avife the judge had mortally offended some infatuated claimant Avho had taken this means of reA'enge. The natural course of such an indiA'idual, howeA'er. would seem to be the punishment of the husband and not the Avife, for one Avas as easy to accomplish as the other. Still this objection Avas not insurmountable, since many a murderer has turned liis rage against the Avornan instead Of her husband. But, accepting the theory, Walmsley found himself confronted on the eery threshold of his iuA'estigation by the fact that Gertrude Horton neA-er had a lover or claimant for her hand until it Avas given to the man avlio became her husband. The judge insisted that she kept no secret from him, and she had assured him of this truth. While seeming to admit it, the detective chose to verify it by other evidence. “ He Avould not be the first man that has been fooled by a pretty avo7uan ; I would not destroy his faith, but at present I cannot share it. It Avil! do no harm to look a little further.” The stricken widoAv confirmed the story of her sou-in-la Av. No doubt Gertrude would haA'e had many admirers had she chosen to go into society, but the two liA'ed a life of seclusion, and Judge Hollywood Avas the first and only man avlio had paid court to the devoted daughter. Careful researches in other directions convinced Walmsley that the

assertion, whose truth he had doubted, "was nevertheless a fact. No rejected lover had slain Gertrude Hollywood. True, there remained the possibility that she might have had a lover without suspecting it. The annals of dime here in New York showed that a “ crank ” claimed a lady organist of a church as his wife and deliberately shot her, when in fact she had never exchanged a word with him. This theory, however, was so violently unreasonable that the detective at once dismissed it, and it may as well be stated, in this paragraph, that subsequent research proved that no grounds whatever existed for such a supposition.

Walmsley considered it quite well established that the assassin had come from a distance. There was certainly no one in the little town of Clayton who could have committed the ci’ime, nor could inquiry develop the fact that any suspicious stranger had been seen in the neighbourhood during the preceding fortnight. Such an individual would have attracted the attention of the townsmen, but the most that could be learned was that an occasional tramp had shown himself at a few back doors in quest of food.

The supposition that one of these pests had done the deed was scattered to the winds by the total lack of motive. The diamond ear-rings and ring of the victim lay on the bureau in plain sight, and a lady’s gold watch was treking’ on the wall. I» the judge’s room adjoining wore other valuables within easy reach, but not one of them had been disturbed. At the end of a week Detective Walmsley admitted to himself that he had established only one or two preliminary facts, as they may be called: Mrs Hollywood had been slain by someone that had come from a considerable distance, for that purpose and for no other; his motive most probably was revenge. This involved once more the theory of a rejected lover, since it was inconceivable that the amiable woman could have given cause to anyone for hating her. But, in reaching these self-evident conclusions, as they may be considered, the detective stumbled upon some incidental facts which caused him discomfort and misgiving. When he called upon Judge Hollywood, shortly after the funeral, to offer his condolence, he expressed the determination to use every effort at his command to run down the one that had desolated his home. Somewhat to his disappointment, the judge did not seem to share his bitter feelings. “ No punishment can be too great for the villain,” replied the pale jurist, “ and yet I cannot say I wish you to succeed.” “ And why not f ” asked the officer, in surprise. I dread the publicity ; it will break the heart of her widowed mother; it will cause scandal and unpleasant talk, and some of my enemies may cast insinuations against me.” This is strange language to come from an administrator of the law.” “ I admit it, and I would utter it to no one besides yourself. It is selfish, I know, but it is honest.” “ I think I can premise you that the cruel means of Mrs Hollywood’s death will never become public until the criminal is brought to justice. then no one can fling a slur at you. By that time, too, her mother will have become so resigned to her loss that the additional pang will be slight. Although we are without the first clue, yet one thing is in our favour.” “ What is that f” “ fjfk.' belief is abroad that her deat^y 1 was due to natural causes. The : 3 n urderer knows that, and is convinced that such also is our impression. He will, therefore, be less on his guard and be the more easily traced.” “ Do you think so f” The question was asked in sharp, incisive tones, in contrast to the mournful manner immediately before.

“Is it not reasonable?” “Yes. Well, do\as you please, though you will find it Impossible topush the search for evidence without its meaning becoming known, even if you fail.” “ I don’t understand why he is so averse to my attempting l 0 trace the criminal,” reflected the detective as he made his w r ay homeward, “ unless —unless- —no, I won’t permit myself to say it.” ■ (To l» continued .)