OUR LADY CONTRIBUTORS.

Observer, Volume 4, Issue 89, 27 May 1882, Page 168

OUR LADY CONTRIBUTORS.

AN UNDISCOVERED MURDER !

It is not often that a murder goes entirely and forever undiscovered, yet the fate of Mr Alfred Eathbone who was murdered in the vicinity of this city about thirty years ago, under mysterious circumstances which have never yet been fathomed is a striking instance of undiscovered crime. I never heard the story told properly so I will recount it for the benefit of the readers of the Observer. Mr Eathbone came out to Auckland in the good ship " Sir Edward Paget," which made the voyage from land to land in' the short space of five months. He was a fair, quiet man of middle age, had been a respectable London tradesman and was sworn in as special constable at the same time as the late Emperor of the French. He was a confectioner by ti'ade,and though he brought out money with him, went at once on his arrival here to work for Mr Jnmes George baker and confectioner, Shortland Orescent, But with a portion of his money, he bought a homestead in what was then called Cabbage Tree Swamp Eoad, and went there every night to sleep. He had one son with him who was also called Alfred, and was then a boy about 12. Now Eathbone had taken a great fancy to a little curly headed boy of mine, and was in the habit of bringing him tarts and cakes as presents. It so happened that he came to the door one evening about 6 o'clock with some tarts for the child, and I noticed that the man looked queer. ",Is anything wrong with you Eathbone ?" I inquired. " Well, I don't know but I believe sombody wants to nmrder me, but I'll sell my life dear — " " Why good gracious Eathbone," I said, " Avhat could put such an idea in your head ?" " Well, I'm quite sure, a man, or men have been walking round my house, and trying to. break in it for two or three nights lately, and last night I got up and opened the door, and stood there with my cutlass waiting for nearly an hour, until I shivered and went back to bed." " And you saw no one ?" "No one ; but I have sent the boy to town, he shall never sleep there, and I'll sell my life hard." " But Eathbone why do you sleep there at all if you have this fancy, why don't you stop in town ?" " No, I'm determined to see the end of it," and away he went. Two days passed and the evening of the second day I heard the dreadful news of his cruel murder, on the very night that lie had left me. He had a neighbour on each side of him, though of course a good distance off, and one of these, who filled the office of warder in the gaol supplied him with milk. A little girl was sent with the milk on the morning after I saw him, and she came back to her mother and said, she could not get in, but there was a smoke . This roused a suspicion of something wrong, and either that night or the next morning, I really forget which the neighbours went into the house and saw the horrid sight. He had evidently made a desperate resistance, but the murderer having despatched his victim,' had set fire to the house in order to hide his crime, but so ineffectually that it had not served his purpose. It was hard to tell the motive ; Eathbone had the reputation of being a warm man, but no one knew that he had money in the house,m fact as far as could be made out at the inquest he was not in the habit of keeping money there. He was known also as a resolute man and he certainly was most- amiable and inoffensive, and had not an enemy in the world as far as could be known. Of course the police of that day went to work and rewards were offered for the conviction of the murderer, but no light was ever thrown on the matter by anyone. A thrill of horror ran through the community ; no one was safe in their beds, was the cry, and for mj own part I confess, I slept with a loaded pistol on mj dressing-table for a good many months after, and my sleep was murdered for a very long time. I could not get the poor fellow out of my head nor Ins last conversation with me. It is not of ten-I fancy that the victem experiences beforehand this dread and horror of someone unknown. Whereabouts now dead or alive, is that unknown someone ? He is not to be envied, though, here, his crime has never been found ; out. „ ,