 CHAPTER 1 A DISCOVERY I am not an inquisitive woman, but when in the middle of a certain warm night in September I heard a carriage draw up at the adjoining house and stop, I could not resist the temptation of leaving my bed and taking a peep through the curtains of my window. First, because the house was empty, were supposed to be so. The family still being as I had every reason to believe in Europe, and secondly, because not being inquisitive I often miss in my lonely and single life much that it would be both interesting and profitable for me to know. Luckily I made no such mistake this evening. I rose and looked out, and though I was far from realizing it at the time, took by so doing my first step in a course of inquiry which has ended. But it is too soon to speak of the end. Either let me tell you what I saw when I parted the curtains of my window in Gramercy Park on the night of September 17th, 1895. Not much at first glance, only a common hack drawn up at a neighboring curb stone. The lamp which is supposed to light our part of the block is some rods away on the opposite side of the street, so that I obtained but a shadowy glimpse of a young man and woman standing below me on the pavement. I could see, however, that the woman and not the man was putting money into the driver's hand. The next moment they were on the stoop of this long-closed house and the coach rolled off. It was dark as I have said, and I did not recognize the young people. At least their figures were not familiar to me. But when in another instant I heard the click of a night key and saw them after a rather tedious fumbling at the lock disappear from the stoop, I took it for granted that the gentleman was Mr. Van Burnham's eldest son, Franklin. And the lady, some relative of the family, though why this most punctilious member should bring a guest at so late an hour into a house devoid of everything necessary to make the least exacting visitor comfortable, was a mystery that I retired to bed to meditate upon. I did not succeed in solving it, however, and after some ten minutes had elapsed I was settling myself again to sleep, when I was re-aroused by a fresh sound from the quarter mentioned. The door I had so lately heard shut, opened again, and though I had to rush for it I succeeded in getting to my window in time to catch a glimpse of the departing figure of the young man hurrying towards Broadway. The young woman was not with him, and as I realized that he had left her behind him in the great empty house, without apparent light and certainly without any companion, I began to question if this was like Franklin Van Burnham. Was it not more in keeping with the recklessness of his more easy-natured and less reliable Brother Howard, who, some two or three years back, had married a young wife of no satisfactory antecedence, and who, as I had heard, had been ostracized by the family in consequence? Whichever of the two it was, he had certainly shown but little consideration for his companion, and thus thinking I fell off to sleep just as the clock struck the half-hour after midnight. Next morning, as soon as modesty would permit me to approach the window, I surveyed the neighboring house minutely. Not a blind was opened nor a shutter displaced. As I am an early riser this did not disturb me at the time, but when after breakfast I looked again and still failed to detect any evidences of life in the great barren front beside me, I began to feel uneasy. But I did nothing until noon, when going into the rear garden and observing that the back windows of the Van Burnham house were as closely shuttered as the front, I became so anxious that I stopped the next policeman I saw going by and telling him my suspicions urged him to ring the bell. No answer followed the summons. There is no one here, said he. Ring again, I begged. And he rang again but with no better result. Don't you see that the house is shut up, he grumbled. We have had orders to watch the place but none to take the watch off. There is a young woman inside, I insisted. The more I think over last night's occurrence the more I am convinced that the matter should be looked into. He shrugged his shoulders and was moving away when we both observed a common-looking woman standing in front looking at us. She had a bundle in her hand and her face, unnaturally ruddy though it was, had a scared look which was all the more remarkable from the fact that it was one of those wooden-like countenances which under ordinary circumstances are capable of but little expression. She was not a stranger to me, that is, I had seen her before in or about the house in which we were at the moment so interested, and not stopping to put any curb on my excitement, I rushed down to the pavement and accosted her. Who are you, I asked? Do you work for the Van Burnems, and do you know who the lady was who came here last night? The poor woman either startled by my sudden address or by my manner which may have been a little sharp, gave a quick bound backwards, and was only deterred by the near-presence of the policeman from attempting flight. As it was she stood her ground, though the fiery flush which made her face so noticeable deepened till her cheeks and brow were scarlet. I am the scrub woman, she protested. I have come to open the windows and air the house, ignoring my last question. Is the family coming home, the policeman asked? I don't know, I think so, was her weak reply. Have you the keys, I now demanded, seeing her fumbling in her pocket? She did not answer. A sly look displaced the anxious one she had hitherto displayed, and she turned away. I don't see what business it is of the neighbors, she muttered, throwing me a dissatisfied scowl over her shoulder. If you've got the keys we will go in and see that things are all right, said the policeman, stopping her with a light touch. She trembled. I saw that she trembled and naturally became excited. Something was wrong in the Van Burnham mansion, and I was going to be present at its discovery, but her next words cut my hopes short. I have no objection to your going in, she said to the policeman, but I will not give up my keys to her. What right has she in our house anyway? And I thought I heard her murmur something about meddlesome old maids. The look which I received from the policeman convinced me that my ears had not played me false. The lady's right, he declared, and pushing by me quite disrespectfully, led the way to the basement door into which he and the so-called cleaner presently disappeared. I waited in front. I felt it to be my duty to do so. The various passersby stopped an instant to stare at me before proceeding on their way, but I did not flinch from my post. Not till I had heard that the young woman who I had seen enter these doors at midnight was well, and that her delay in opening the windows was entirely due to fashionable laziness, what I feel justified in returning to my own home and its affairs, but it took patience and some courage to remain there. Several minutes elapsed before I perceived the shutters in the third storey open, and a still longer time before a window on the second floor flew up, and the policeman looked out, only to meet my inquiring gaze and rapidly disappear again. Meantime three or four persons had stopped on the walk near me, the nucleus of a crowd which would not be long in collecting, and I was beginning to feel I was paying dearly for my virtuous resolution. When the front door burst violently open and we caught sight of the trembling form and shocked face of the scrub woman. She's dead, she cried, she's dead, murder! And would have said more had not the policeman pulled her back, with a growl which sounded very much like a suppressed oath. He would have shut the door upon me had I not been quicker than lightning. As it was I got in before it slammed, and happily too, for just at that moment the house cleaner who had grown paler every instant fell in a heap in the entry. Then the policeman who was not the man I would want about me in any trouble, seemed somewhat embarrassed by this new emergency, and let me lift the poor thing up and drag her further into the hall. She had fainted, and should have had something done for her, but anxious though I always am to be of help where help is needed, I had no sooner gotten within range of the parlor door with my burden, than I beheld a sight so terrifying that I involuntarily let the poor woman slip from my arms to the floor. In the darkness of a dim corner, for the room had no light save that which came through the doorway where I stood, lay the form of a woman under a fallen piece of furniture. Her skirts and distended arms alone were visible, but no one who saw the rigid outlines of her limbs could doubt for a moment that she was dead. At a sight so dreadful, and in spite of all my apprehensions so unexpected, I felt a sensation of sickness which in another moment might have ended in my fainting also, if I had not realized that it would never do for me to lose my wits, in the presence of a man who had none too many of his own. So I shook off my momentary weakness, and turning to the policeman, who was hesitating between the unconscious figure of the woman outside the door, and the dead form of the one within, I cried sharply. Come, man, to business. The woman inside there is dead, but this one is living. Fetch me a picture of water from below if you can, and then go for whatever assistance you need. I'll wait here and bring this woman to. She is a strong one, and it won't take long. You'll stay here alone with that, he began. But I stopped him with a look of disdain. Of course I will stay here, why not? Is there anything in the dead to be afraid of? Save me from the living, and I'll undertake to save myself from the dead. But his face had grown very suspicious. You go for the water, he cried, and see here, just call out for someone to telephone the police headquarters for the coroner, and a detective. I don't quit this room till one or the other of them comes. Smiling at a caution so very ill-timed, but abiding by my invariable rule of never arguing with a man unless I see some way of getting the better of him, I did what he bade me, though I hated dreadfully to leave the spot in its woeful mystery, even for so short a time as was required. Run up to the second story, he called out, as I passed by the prostrate figure of the cleaner. Tell them what you want from the window, or we will have the whole street in here. So I ran upstairs. I had always wished to visit this house, but had never been encouraged to do so by the Mrs. Van Burnham, and making my way into the front room, the door of which stood wide open. I rushed to the window and hailed the crowd, which by this time extended far out beyond the curb-stone. An officer I called out, a police officer. An accident has occurred, and the man in charge here wants the coroner and a detective from police headquarters. Who's hurt? Is it a man? Is it a woman? Shouted up one or two. And let us in, shouted others. But the sight of a boy rushing off to meet an advancing policeman satisfied me that help would soon be forthcoming. So I drew in my head and looked about me for the next necessity—water. I was in a lady's bed-chamber, probably that of the eldest Miss Van Burnham, but it was a bed-chamber which had not been occupied for some months, and naturally it lacked the very articles which would have been of assistance to me in the present emergency. No ode cologne on the bureau, no camphor on the mantel shelf. But there was water in the pipes, something I had hardly hoped for, and a mug on the wash-stand. So I filled the mug and ran with it to the door, stumbling as I did so over some small object which I presently perceived to be a little round pin-cushion. Putting it up, for I hate anything like disorder, I placed it on a table nearby and continued on my way. The woman was still lying at the foot of the stairs. I dashed the water in her face, and she immediately came to. Sitting up she was about to open her lips when she checked herself. A fact which struck me as odd, though I did not allow my surprise to become apparent. Meantime I stole a glance into the parlour. The officer was standing where I had left him, looking down on the prostrate figure before him. There was no sign of feeling in his heavy countenance, and he had not opened a shutter, nor, so far as I could see, disarranged an object in the room. The mysterious character of the whole affair fascinated me in spite of myself. And leaving the now fully aroused woman in the hall, I was halfway across the parlour floor when the latter stopped me with a shrill cry. Don't leave me! I have never seen anything before so horrible. The poor dear! The poor dear! Why doesn't he take those dreadful things off her? She alluded not only to the piece of furniture which had fallen upon the prostrate woman, and which can be best described as a cabinet with closets below and shelves above, but to the various articles of Brickabrack which had tumbled from the shelves and which now lay in broken pieces about her. He will do so. They will do so very soon, I replied. He is waiting for someone with more authority than himself. For the coroner, if you know what that means. But what if she's alive? Those things will crush her. Let us take them off. I'll help. I'm not too weak to help. Do you know who this person is, I asked? For her voice had more feeling in it than I thought natural to the occasion dreadful as it was. Why, she repeated, her weak eyelids quivering for a moment as she tried to sustain my scrutiny, how should I know? I came in with the policeman, and haven't been any nearer than I now be. What makes you think I know anything about her? I'm only this grub woman, and I don't even know the names of the family. I thought you seemed so very anxious, I explained, suspicious of her suspiciousness, which was so sly and emphatic a character that it changed her whole bearing from one of fear to one of cunning in a moment. And who wouldn't feel the like of that for a poor creature lying crushed under a heap of broken crockery? Crockery, those Japanese vases worth hundreds of dollars, that Ormulu clock, and those Dresden figures, must have been more than a couple of centuries old. It's a poor sense of duty that keeps a man standing dumb and staring like that. And with a lift of his hand he could show us the like of her pretty face, and if it's dead she be, or alive. As this burst of indignation was natural enough and not altogether uncalled for, from the standpoint of humanity, I gave the woman a knot of approval, and wished I were a man myself, that I might lift the heavy cabinet, or whatever it was, that lay upon the poor creature before us. But not being a man, and not judging it wise to irritate the one representative of that sex then present, I made no remark, but only took a few steps farther into the room, followed, as it afterwards appeared, by the scrub woman. The van Burnham parlors are separated by an open arch. It was to the right of this arch and in the corner opposite the doorway that the dead woman lay. I used my eyes, now that I was somewhat accustomed to the semi-darkness enveloping us, I noticed two or three facts which had hitherto escaped me. One was that she lay on her back with her feet pointing towards the hall door, and another, that nowhere in the room save her immediate vicinity, were there to be seen any signs of struggle or disorder. All was as set and proper as in my own parlor, when it had been undisturbed for any length of time by guests. And though I could not see far into the rooms beyond, they were to all appearance, in an equally orderly condition. Meanwhile, the cleaner was trying to account for the overturned cabinet. Poor dear, poor dear, she must have pulled it over on herself, but however did she get into the house, and what was she doing in this great empty place? The policemen to whom these remarks had evidently been addressed, growled out some unintelligible reply, and in her perplexity the woman turned towards me. But what could I say to her? I had my own private knowledge of the matter, but she was not one to confide in, so I stuically shook my head. Doubly disappointed the poor thing shrank back, after looking first at the policemen, and then at me in an odd, appealing way difficult to understand. Then her eyes fell again on the dead girl at her feet, and being nearer now than before, she evidently saw something that startled her, for she sank on her knees with a little cry and began examining the girl's skirts. What are you looking at there, growled the policemen? Get up, can't you? No one but the coroner has a right to lay hand on anything here. I am doing no harm, the woman protested in an odd, shaking voice. I only wanted to see what the poor thing had on. Some blue stuff, isn't it? She asked me. Blue surge, I answered, storm-made but very good, must have come from Altman's or Stearns. I—I'm not used to sights like this, stammered the scrub woman, stumbling awkwardly to her feet, and looking as if her few remaining wits had followed the rest on an endless vacation. I—I think I shall have to go home, but she did not move. The poor dear is young, isn't she? She presently insinuated, with an odd catch in her voice, that gave to the question an air of hesitation and doubt. I think she is younger than either you or myself, I deign to reply. Her narrow pointed shoes show that she has not reached the ears of discretion. Yes, yes, so they do, ejaculated the cleaner eagerly, too eagerly for perfect ingenuousness. That's why I said poor dear, and spoke of her pretty face. I am sorry for young folks when they get into trouble, ain't you? You and me might lie here, and no one be much the worse for it, but a sweet lady like this. This was not very flattering to me, but I was prevented from rebuking her by a prolonged shout from the stoop without, as a rush was made against the front door followed by a shrill peel of the bell. Even from headquarters, stolidly announced the policeman, open the door, ma'am, or step back into the further hall if you want me to do it. Such rudeness was uncalled for, but considering myself too important a witness to show feeling, I swallowed my indignation and proceeded with all my native dignity to the front door. As I did so I could catch the murmur of the crowd outside as it seeped forward at the first intimation of the door being opened, but my attention was not so distracted by it, loud as it sounded after the quiet of the shut-up house, that I failed to notice the door had not been locked by the gentleman leaving the night before, and that consequently only the night latch was on. With a turn of the knob it opened, showing me the mob of shouting boys, and the forms of two gentlemen waiting admittance on the doorstep. I frowned at the mob and smiled on the gentleman, one of whom was portly and easy-going in appearance, and the others spare with a touch of severity in his aspect. But for some reason these gentlemen did not seem to me to appreciate the honour I had done them, for they both gave me a displeased glance, which was so odd and unsympathetic in its character that I bridled the little, though I soon returned to my natural manner. Did they realize at the first glance that I was destined to prove a thorn in the sides of everyone connected with this matter for days to come? Are you the woman who called from the window, asked the larger of the two, whose business here I found it difficult at first to determine? I am, was my perfectly self-possessed reply. I live next door, and my presence here is due to the anxious interest I always take in my neighbours. I had reason to think that all was not as it should be in this house, and I was right. Look in the parlours, sirs. They were already as far as the threshold of that room, and needed no further encouragement to enter. The heavier man went first, and the other followed, and you may be sure that I was not far behind. The sight meeting our eyes was ghastly enough, as you know, but these men were evidently accustomed to ghastly sights, for they showed but little emotion. I thought this house was empty, observed the second gentleman, who was evidently a doctor. So it was till last night I put in, and was about to tell my story when I felt my skirts jerked. Turning I found that this warning had come from the cleaner, who stood close beside me. What do you want, I asked, not understanding her and having nothing to conceal. I, she faltered with a frightened air, nothing, ma'am, nothing. Then don't interrupt me, I harshly admonished her, annoyed at an interference that tended to throw suspicion upon my candor. This woman came here to scrub and clean, I now explained. It was by means of the key that she carries that we were enabled to get into the house. I never spoke to her till a half hour ago. At which, with a display of subtlety I was far from expecting in one of her appearance, she let her emotions take a fresh direction, and pointing towards the dead woman she impetuously cried. But the poor child there, ain't you going to get those things off of her? It's wicked to leave her under all that stuff, suppose there was life in her. Oh, there's no hope of that, muttered the doctor, lifting one of the hands and letting it fall again. Still, he cast a side look at his companion, who gave him a meaningful nod. It might be well enough to lift this cabinet sufficiently for me to lay my hand on her heart. He accordingly did this, and the doctor, leaning down, placed his hand over the poor, bruised breast. No life, he murmured. She has been dead for some hours. Do you think we had better release the head, he went on, glancing up at the portly man at his side? But the latter, who was rapidly growing serious, made a slight protest with his finger, and turning to me inquired with sudden authority. What did you mean when you said that the house had been empty until last night? Just what I said, sir, it was empty until about midnight, when two persons, again, I felt my dress twitched, this time very cautiously. What did the woman want? Not daring to give her a look, for these men were only too ready to detect harm in everything I did. I gently drew my skirt away and took a step aside, going on as if no interruption had occurred. Did I say persons? I should have said a man and a woman drove up to the house and entered. I saw them from my window. You did, murmured my interlocuteur, who had by this time decided to be a detective? And this is the woman, I suppose, he proceeded pointing to the poor creature lying before us. Why, yes, of course, who else can she be? I did not see the lady's face last night, but she was young and light on her feet, and ran up the stoop gaily. In the man, where is the man? I don't see him here. I am not surprised at that. He went very soon after he came, not ten minutes after, I should say. That is what alarmed me and caused me to have the house investigated. It did not seem natural, or, like any of the Van Burnams, to leave a woman to spend the night in so large a house alone. You know the Van Burnams? Not well, but that don't signify. I know what report says of them they are gentlemen. But Mr. Van Burnam is in Europe. He has two sons. Living here? No, the unmarried one spends his nights at Long Branch, and the other is with his wife somewhere in Connecticut. And how did the young couple you saw get in last night? Was there anyone here to admit them? No, the gentleman had a key. Ah, he had a key. The tone in which this was said recurred to me afterwards, but at the moment I was much more impressed by a peculiar sound I heard behind me. Something between a gasp and a click in the throat, which came I knew from the scrub woman, and which, odd and contradictory as it may appear, struck me as an expression of satisfaction, though what there was in my admission to give satisfaction to this poor creature I could not conjecture. Doing so is to get a glimpse of her face. I went on with the grim self-possession natural to my character. And when he came out he walked briskly away. The carriage had not waited for him. Ah, again, muttered the gentleman, picking up one of the broken pieces of China, which lay haphazard about the floor. While I studied the cleaner's face, which, to my amazement, gave evidences of a confusion of emotions most unaccountable to me. Mr. Grice may have noticed this, too, for he immediately addressed her, though he continued to look at the broken piece of China in his hand. And how come you to be cleaning this house, he asked, is the family coming home? They are, sir, she answered, hiding her emotion with great skill, the moment she perceived attention directed to herself, and speaking with the sudden volubility that made us all stare. They are expected any day. I didn't know it till yesterday. Was it yesterday? No. The day before, when young Mr. Franklin, he is the oldest son, sir, and a very nice man, a very nice man, sent me word by letter that I was to get the house ready. It isn't the first time I have done it for them, sir, and as soon as I could get the basement key from the agent I came here and worked all day yesterday washing up the floors and dusting. I should have been at them again this morning if my husband hadn't been sick. But I had to go to the infirmary for medicine, and it was noon when I got here. And then I found this lady standing outside with a policeman, a very nice lady, a very nice lady indeed, sir. I pay my respects to her, and she actually dropped me a curtsy like a peasant woman in a play. And they took my key from me and the policeman opens the door, and he and me go upstairs and into all the rooms, and when we come to this one, she was getting so excitedest to be hardly intelligible. Stopping herself with a jerk, she fumbled nervously with her apron, while I asked myself, how she could have been at work in this house the day before, without my knowing it. Only I remembered that I was ill in the morning and busy in the afternoon at the orphan asylum, and somewhat relieved at finding so excellent an excuse for my ignorance. I looked up to see if the detective had noticed anything odd in this woman's behaviour, presumably he had, but having more experience than myself with the susceptibility of ignorant persons in the presence of danger and distress, he attached less importance to it than I did, for which I was secretly glad, without exactly knowing my reasons for being so. You will be wanted as a witness by the coroner's jury, he now remarked to her, looking as if he were addressing the peace of China he was turning over in his hand. Now, no nonsense, he protested, as she commenced to tremble in plead. You were the first one to see this dead woman, and you must be on hand to say so. As I cannot tell you when the inquest will be, you had better stay around till the coroner comes, he'll be here soon, you and this other woman too. By other woman he meant me, Miss Butterworth, of colonial ancestry, and no inconsiderable importance in the social world. But though I did not relish this careless association of myself with this poor scrub woman, I was careful to show no displeasure, for I reasoned that as witnesses we were equal before the law, and that it was solely in this light he regarded us. There was something in the manner of both these gentlemen, which convinced me that while my presence was considered desirable in the house, it was not especially wanted in the room. I was therefore moving reluctantly away when I felt a slight but preemptory touch on my arm, and turning saw the detective at my side, still studying his peace of China. He was, as I have said, a portly-billed and benevolent aspect, a fatherly-looking man, and not at all the person one would likely to associate with the police. Yet he could take the lead very naturally, and when he spoke I felt bound to answer him. Will you be so good, madam, as to relate over again what you saw from your window last night? I am likely to have charge of this matter, and would be pleased to hear all you may have to say concerning it. My name is Butterworth, I politely intimated. And my name is Grace, a detective, the same. You must think this matter very serious, I ventured. Death by violence is always serious. You must regard this death as something more than an accident, I mean. His smile seemed to say, You will not know today how I regard it. And you will not know today what I think of it either, was my inward rejoinder. But I said nothing aloud, for the man was seventy-five if he was a day, and I had been taught respect for age and have practised the same for fifty years and more. I must have shown what was passing in my mind. And he must have seen it reflected on the polished surface of the porcelain he was contemplating, for his lips showed the shadow of a smile sufficiently sarcastic for me to see that he was far from being as easy-natured as his countenance indicated. Come, come, said he. There is the coroner now. Say what you have to say like the straightforward honest woman you appear. I don't like compliments, I snapped out. Indeed they have always been obnoxious to me, as if there was any merit in being honest and straightforward or any distinction in being so told. I am Miss Butterworth and not in the habit of being spoken to, as if I were a simple countrywoman, I objected. But I will repeat what I saw last night, as it is no secret, and the telling of it won't hurt me and may help you. Accordingly I went over the whole story, and was much more loquacious than I had intended to be. His manner was so insinuating and his inquiries so pertinent. At one topic we both failed to broach, and that was the peculiar manner of the scrubwoman. Perhaps it had not struck him as peculiar, and perhaps it should not have struck me as so. But in the silence which was preserved on the subject I felt I had acquired an advantage over him, which might lead to consequences of no small importance. Would I have felt thus or congratulated myself quite so much upon my fancied superiority, if I had known he was the man who managed the Leavenworth case, and who, in his early years, had experienced that very wonderful adventure on the staircase of the heart's delight? Perhaps I would, for though I have had no adventures, I feel capable of them, and as for any peculiar acumen he may have shown in his long and eventful career why that is equality which others may share with him, as I hope to be able to prove before finishing these pages. Chapter III Amelia discovers herself There is a small room at the extremity of the Van Burnham mansion. In this I took refuge after my interview with Mr. Grice, as I picked out the chair which best suited me and settled myself for a comfortable communion with my own thoughts. I was astonished to find how much I was enjoying myself, not with standing the thousand and one duties awaiting me on the other side of the party wall. Even this solitude was welcome for it gave me an opportunity to consider matters. I had not known, up to this very hour, that I had any special gifts. My father, who was a shrewd man of the Old New England type, said more times than I am years old, which was not saying it as often as some may think, that Araminta, the name I was christened by, and the name you will find in the Bible record, though I sign myself Amelia, and insist upon being addressed as Amelia, being as I hope a sensible woman and not the piece of antiquated sentimentality suggested by the former cognomen, that Araminta would live to make her mark. Though in what capacity he never informed me, being as I have observed a shrewd man, and thus not likely to thoughtlessly commit himself. I know now that he was right. My pretensions dating from the moment I found that this affair, at first glance so simple, and at the next so complicated, had aroused in me a fever of investigation which no reasoning could allay. Though I had other and more personal matters on my mind, my thoughts would rest nowhere but on the details of this tragedy, and having, as I thought, noticed some few facts in connection with it from which conclusions might be drawn. I amused myself with jotting them down on the back of a disputed grocer's bill I happen to find in my pocket. Valueless as explaining this tragedy, being founded upon insufficient evidence, they may be interesting as showing the workings of my mind even at this early stage of the matter. They were drawn under three heads. First was the death of this young woman an accident. Second was it a suicide. Third was it murder. Under the first head I wrote, my reasons for not thinking it an accident. One, if it had been an accident and she had pulled the cabinet over upon herself, she would have been found with her feet pointing towards the wall where the cabinet had stood. But her feet were towards the door and her head under the cabinet. Two, the decent even precise arrangement of the clothing about her feet, which precludes any theory involving accident. Under the second, reason for not thinking it suicide. She could not have been found in the position observed without having lain down on the floor while living and then pulled the shelves down upon herself, a theory obviously too improbable to be considered. Under the third, reason for not thinking it murder. She would need to have been held down on the floor while the cabinet was being pulled over her, something which the quiet aspect of the hands and feet may appear impossible. To this I added reasons for accepting the theory of murder. One, the fact that she did not go into the house alone, that the man entered with her, remained ten minutes and then came out again and disappeared up the street with every appearance of haste and an anxious desire to leave the spot. Two, the front door which he had unlocked on entering was not locked by him on departure, the catch doing the locking. Yet though he could have re-entered so easily, he had shown no disposition to return. Three, the arrangement of the skirts which show the touch of a careful hand after death. Nothing clear you see I was doubtful of all, and yet my suspicions tended most toward murder. I had eaten my luncheon before interfering in this matter which was fortunate for me, as it was three o'clock before I was summoned to meet the coroner of whose arrival I had been conscious some time before. He was in the front parlor where the dead girl lay, and as I took my way thither I felt the same sensations of faintness which had so nearly overcome me on the previous occasion. But I mastered them and was quite myself before I crossed the threshold. There were several gentlemen present, but of them all I only noticed two, one of whom I took to be the coroner, while the other was my late interlocutor Mr. Greiss. From the animation observable in the latter I gathered that the case was growing in interest from the detective's standpoint. Ah, and is this the witness as the coroner as I stepped into the room? I am Miss Butterworth was my calm reply, Amelia Butterworth, coming next door and present at the discovery of this poor murdered body. Murdered, he repeated, why do you say murdered? For reply I drew from my pocket the bill on which I had scribbled my conclusions in regards to this matter. Read this, said I. Evidently astonished he took the paper from my hand, and after some curious glances in my direction condescended to do as I requested. The result was an odd but grudging look of admiration directed towards myself and a quick passing over of the paper to the detective. The latter, who had exchanged his bit of broken china for a very much used and tooth-marked lead pencil, frowned with the whimsical air at the latter before he put it in his pocket. Then he read my hurried scrawl. Two richmans in the field commented the coroner with a sly chuckle. I'm afraid I should have to yield to their allied forces. Miss Butterworth, the cabinet is about to be raised. Do you feel as if you could endure the sight? I can stand anything where the cause of justice is involved, I replied. Very well, then, sit down, if you please, when the whole body is visible I will call you. And stepping forward he gave orders to have the clock and broken china removed from about the body. As the former was laid away on one end of the mantel someone observed what a valuable witness that clock might have been had it been running when the shelves fell. But the fact was so patent that it had not been in motion for months that no one even answered, and Mr. Grice did not so much as look towards it. But then we had all seen that the hand stood at three minutes to five. I had been asked to sit down, but I found this impossible. And by side with the detective I viewed the replacing of that heavy piece of furniture against the wall, and the slow disclosure of the upper part of the body which had so long laid hidden. That I did not give way is a proof that my father's prophecy was not without some reasonable foundation, for the sight was one to try the stoutest nerves as well as to awaken the compassion of the hardest heart. The coroner, meeting my eye, pointed at the poor creature inquiringly. Is this the woman you saw enter here last night? I glanced down at her dress, noting the short summer cape tied to the neck with an elaborate bow of ribbon, and nodded my head. I remember the cape, said I, but where is her hat? She wore one. Let me see if I can describe it. Closing my eyes I endeavored to recall the dim silhouette of her figure as she stood passing up the change to the driver, and it was so far successful that I was ready to announce the next moment that her hat presented the effect of a soft felt with one feather or one bow of ribbon standing upright from the side of the crown. Then the identity of this woman with the one you saw enter here last night is established, remarked the detective, stooping down and drawing from under the poor girl's body a hat. Sufficiently like the one I had just described to satisfy everybody that it was the same. As if there could be any doubt, I began, but the coroner, explaining that it was a mere formality, motioned me to stand aside in favor of the doctor, who seemed anxious to approach nearer the spot where the dead woman lay. This I was about to do when a sudden thought struck me, and I reached out my hand for the hat. Let me look at it for a moment, said I. After Grice at once handed it over, and I took a good look at it inside and out. It is pretty badly crushed, I observed, and does not present a very fresh appearance, but for all that it has been born but once. How do you know, questioned the coroner? Let the other Richmond inform you, was my grimly uttered reply, as I gave it again into the detective's hand. There was a murmur about me, whether of amusement or displeasure, I made no effort to decide. I was finding out something for myself, and I did not care what they thought of me. Neither has she worn this dress long, I continued, but that is not true of the shoes. They are not old, but they have been acquainted with the pavement, and that is more than I can say of the hem of this gown. There are no gloves on her hands. A few minutes elapsed then before her assault, long enough for her to take them off. That woman whispered a voice in my ear, a half-admiring, half-sarcastic voice, that I had no difficulty in ascribing to Mr. Grice. But are you sure she wore any? Did you notice that her hand was gloved when she came into the house? No, I answered frankly, but so well-dressed a woman would not enter a house like this without gloves. It was a warm night, someone suggested. I don't care, you will find her gloves as you have her hat, and you will find them with the fingers turned inside out just as she drew them from her hand. So much I will concede to the warmth of the weather. Like these, for instance, broke in a quiet voice. Startled for a hand had appeared over my shoulder dangling a pair of gloves before my eyes, I cried out, somewhat too triumphantly I own. Yes, yes, just like those. Did you pick them up here, are they hers? You say that this is the way hers should look. And I repeat it. Then allow me to pay you my compliments these were picked up here. But where, I cried, I thought I looked this carpet over well. He smiled not at me, but at the gloves, and the thought crossed me that he felt as if something more than the gloves was being turned inside out, I therefore pursed my mouth and determined to stand more on my guard. It is of no consequence I assured him. All such matters will come out at the inquest. Grace nodded and put the gloves back in his pocket. With them he seemed to pocket some of his geniality and patience. All of these facts have been gone over before you came in, said he, which statement I beg to consider is open to doubt. The doctor, who had hardly moved a muscle during all this colloquy, now rose from his kneeling position beside the girl's head. I shall have to ask the presence of another physician, said he. Will you send for one from your office corner at all? At which I stepped back and the coroner stepped forward, saying, however, as he passed me. The inquest will be held day after tomorrow in my office. Hold yourself in readiness to be present. I regard you as one of my chief witnesses. I assured him I would be on hand and obeying a gesture of his finger retreated from the room, but I did not yet leave the house. A straight, slim man with a very small head but a very bright eye was leaning on the Newell Post in the front hall, and when he saw me started up so alertly I perceived that he had business with me and so waited for him to speak. You are Miss Butterworth, he inquired. I am, sir. And I am a reporter from the New York world. Will you allow me? Why did he stop? I had merely looked at him, but he did stop, and that is saying considerable for a reporter from the New York world. I certainly am willing to tell you what I have told everyone else, I interposed, considering it better not to make an enemy of so judicious a young man, and seeing him brighten up at this I thereupon related all that I considered desirable for the general public to know. I was about passing on when reflecting that one good turn deserves another I paused and asked him if he thought they would leave the dead girl in the house all night. He answered that he did not think they would, that a telegram had been sent some time before to young Mr. Van Burnham and that they were only awaiting his arrival to remove her. Do you mean Howard, I asked? Is he the elder one? No. It is the elder one they have summoned, the one who has been staying at Long Branch. How can they expect him then so soon? Because he is in the city, it seems the old gentleman is going to return on the New York, and as she is due here today, Franklin Van Burnham has come to New York to meet him. Huh, thought I. Many times are in prospect, and for the first time I remembered my dinner and the orders which had not been given about some curtains which were to have been hung that day and all the other reasons I had for being at home. I must have shown my feelings as much as I pride myself upon my impassibility upon all occasions. For he immediately held out his arm with an offer to pilot me through the crowd to my own house, and I was about to accept it when the doorbell rang so sharply that we involuntarily stopped. A fresh witness or a telegram for the coroner, whispered the reporter in my ear. I tried to look indifferent and doubtless made out pretty well, for he added after a sly look in my face, you do not care to stay any longer? I made no reply, but I think he was impressed by my dignity. Could he not see that it would be the height of ill manners for me to rush out in the face of anyone coming in? An officer opened the door, and when we saw who stood there I am sure that the reporter as well as myself was grateful that we listened to the dictates of politeness. It was young Mr. Van Burnham, Franklin, I mean the older and more respectable of the two sons. He was flushed and agitated, and looked as if he would like to annihilate the crowd pushing him about on his own stoop. He gave an angry glance backward as he stepped in, and then I saw that a carriage covered with baggage stood on the other side of the street, and gathered that he had not returned to his father's house alone. What has happened? What does all this mean? Were the words he hurled at us, as the door closed behind him, and he found himself face to face with a half dozen strangers, among whom the reporter and myself stood conspicuous. Mr. Grice coming suddenly from somewhere was the one to answer him. A painful occurrence, sir, a young girl has been found here dead, crushed under one of your parlor cabinets. A young girl, he repeated, oh how glad I was that I had been brought up never to transgress the principles of politeness. Here in this shut up house, what young girl? You mean old woman, do you not, the house cleaner or someone? You know, Mr. Van Burnham, we mean what we say, though possibly I should call her a young lady, she is dressed quite fashionably. The—really I cannot repeat in this public manner the word which Mr. Van Burnham used. I excused him at the time, but I will not perpetuate his forgetfulness in these pages. She is still lying as we found her, Mr. Grice now proceeded in his quiet, almost fatherly way. Will you not take a look at her, perhaps you can tell us who she is. I, Mr. Van Burnham, seemed quite shocked. How should I know her? Some thief probably killed while meddling with other people's property. Perhaps, quoth Mr. Grice laconically, at which I felt so angry as tending to mislead my handsome young neighbor, that I irresistibly did what I had fully made up my mind not to do, that is, stepped into view, and took apart in this conversation. How can you say that, I cried, when her admittance here was due to a young man who let her in at midnight with a key, and then left her to eat out her heart in this great house all alone. I have made sensations in my life, but never quite so marked a one as this, in an instant every eye was on me, with the exception of the detectives. Grice was on the figure, crowning the Newell post, and bitterly severe his gaze was, too, though it immediately grew wary, as the young man started towards me and impetuously demanded. Who talks like that? Why, it's Miss Butterworth. Madam, I fear I did not fully understand what you said, whereupon I repeated my words, but this time very quietly, but clearly, while Mr. Grice continued to frown at the bronze figure he had taken into his confidence. When I had finished, Mr. Van Burnham's countenance had changed, so had his manner. He held himself as erect as before, but not with as much bravado. He showed haste and impatience also, but not the same kind of haste, and not quite the same kind of impatience. The corners of Mr. Grice's mouth betrayed that he had noted this change, but he did not turn away from the Newell post. This is a remarkable circumstance which you have just told me, observed Mr. Van Burnham, with the first bow I had ever received from him. I don't know what to think of it, but I still hold that it's some thief. Killed, did you say? Really dead. Well, I'd have given five hundred dollars not to have had it happen in this house. He had been moving towards the parlor door, and he now entered it. Instantly Mr. Grice was at his side. Are they going to close the door? I whispered to the reporter, who was taking all this in equally with myself. I'm afraid so, he muttered. And they did. Mr. Grice had evidently had enough of my interference, and was resolved to shut me out. But I heard one word and caught one glimpse of Mr. Van Burnham's face before the heavy door fell too. The word was, oh, so bad is that? How can any one recognize her? And the glimpse, well, the glimpse proved to me that he was much more profoundly agitated than he wished to appear, and any extra ordinary agitation on his part was certainly in direct contradiction to the very sentence he was at that moment uttering. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Silas Van Burnham However much I may be needed at home, I cannot reconcile it with my sense of duty to leave just yet, I confided to the reporter, with what I meant to be a proper show of reason and self-restraint. Mr. Van Burnham may wish to ask me some questions. Of course, of course, acquiesced the other. You are very right. As you are very right, I should judge. As I did not know what he meant by this, I frowned. Always a wise thing to do in an uncertainty, that is, if one wishes to maintain an air of independence and aversion to flattery. Will you not sit down, he suggested. There is a chair at the end of the hall. But I had no need to sit. The front doorbell again rang, and simultaneously, with its opening, the parlor door unclosed, and Mr. Franklin Van Burnham appeared in the hall. Just as Mr. Silas Van Burnham, his father, stepped into the vestibule. Father, he remonstrated with the troubled air, could you not wait? The elder gentleman, who had evidently just been driven up from the steamer, wiped his forehead with an irascible air. That I will say I have noticed in him before, and on much less provocation. Wait with yelling crowds screaming murder in my ear, and Isabella on one side of me calling for salts, and Caroline on the opposite seat getting that blue look about her mouth. We have learned to dread so in a hot day like this. No, sir. When there is anything wrong going on, I want to know it, and evidently there is something wrong going on here. What is it? Some of howards, but the sun, seizing me by the hand and drawing me forward, put a quick stop to the old gentleman's sentence. Miss Butterworth, father, our next door neighbor, you know. Ah, hm, ah, Miss Butterworth, how do you do, ma'am? What the—is she doing here, he grumbled. Not so low, but that I heard both the profanity and the none too complementary allusion to myself. If you will come into the parlour I will tell you urged the sun. But what have you done with Isabella and Caroline, left them in the carriage with that hooting mob about them? I told the coachmen to drive on, they are probably half way around the block by this time. Then come in here, but don't allow yourself to be too much affected by what you will see. A sad accident has occurred here, and you must expect the sight of blood. Blood? Oh, I can stand that. If howard? The rest was lost in the sound of the closing door. And now you will say I ought to have gone, and you are right, but would you have gone yourself, especially as the hall was full of people who did not belong there? If you would, then condemn me for lingering just a few minutes longer. The voices in the parlour were loud, but they presently subsided, and when the owner of the house came out again, he had a subdued look, which was as great a contrast to his angry aspect on entering, as was the change I observed in his son. He was so absorbed indeed that he did not notice me though I stood directly in his way. Don't let howard come, he was saying in a thick, low voice to his son. Keep howard away till we are sure. I am confident that his son pressed his arm at that point, for he stopped short and looked about him in a blind and dazed way. Oh, he ejaculated in a tone of great displeasure. This is the woman who saw. Miss Butterworth, father, the anxious voice of his son broke in. Don't try to talk such a sight as enough to unnerve any man. Yes, yes, blustered the old gentleman, evidently taking some hint from the other's tone or manner. Where are the girls? They will be dead with terror if we don't relieve their minds. They got the idea it was their brother howard who was hurt, and so did I, but it's only some wandering wave, thumb. It seemed as if he was not to be allowed to finish any of his sentences, for Franklin interrupted him at this point, and asked him what he was going to do with the girls, certainly he could not bring them in here. No, answered his father, but in the dreamy, inconsequential way of one whose thoughts were elsewhere. I suppose I shall have to take them to some hotel. Ah, an idea! I flushed as I realized the opportunity which had come to me, and had to wait a moment not to speak with too much eagerness. Let me play the part of neighbor, I prayed, and accommodate the young ladies for the night, my house is near and quiet. But the trouble it would involve, protested Mr. Franklin, is just what I need to allay my excitement, I responded. I shall be glad to offer them rooms for the night, if they are equally glad to accept them. They must be, the old gentleman declared, I can't go running around with them hunting up rooms to-night. Miss Butterworth is very good. Go find the girls, Franklin. Let me have them off my mind at least. The young man bowed. I bowed, and was slipping at last from my place by the stairs, when for the third time I felt my dress twitched. Are you going to keep to that story, a voice whispered in my ear, about the young man and the woman coming in the night, you know? Keep to it, I whispered back, recognizing this grub woman, who had sidled up to me from some unknown quarter in the semi-darkness. Why it's true, why shouldn't I keep to it? A chuckle, difficult to describe but full of meaning, shook the arm of the woman as she pressed close to my side. Oh, you are a good one, she said. I didn't know they made him so good. And with another chuckle full of satisfaction and an odd sort of admiration I had certainly not earned, she slid away again into the darkness. Certainly there was something in this woman's attitude towards this affair which merited attention. I welcome the Mrs. Van Burnham with just enough goodwill to show that I had not been influenced by any unworthy motives in asking them to my house. I gave them my guest-chamber but I invited them to sit in my front room as long as there was anything interesting going on in the street. I knew they would like to look out, and as this chamber boasts of a bay with two windows we could all be accommodated. From where I sat I could now and then hear what they said, and I considered this but just, for if the young woman who had suffered so untimely an end was in any way connected with them it was certainly best that the fact should not lie concealed. And one of them, that is, Isabella, is such a chatterbox. Mr. Van Burnham and his son had returned next door, and so far as we could observe, from our vantage point, preparations were being made for the body's removal. As the crowd below, driven away by the policemen one minute, only to collect again in another, swayed and grumbled in a continual expectation that was as continually disappointed, I heard Caroline's voice rise in two or three short sentences. They can't find Howard, or he would have been here before now. Did you see her that time when we were coming out of Clarke's? Fanny pressed and did, and she said she was pretty. No, I didn't get a glimpse. A shout from the street below. I can't believe it were the next words I heard, but Franklin is awfully afraid. Hush, or the ogre's. I am sure I heard her say ogre's, but what followed was drowned in another loud murmur, and I caught nothing further till these sentences were uttered by the trembling and over-excited Caroline. If it be she, Pa will never be the same man again, to have her die in our house. Oh, there's Howard now! The interruption came quick and sharp, and it was followed by a double cry and an anxious rustle, as the two girls sprang to their feet in their anxiety to attract their brother's attention, or possibly to convey him some warning. But I did not give much heed to them. My eyes were on the carriage in which Howard had arrived, and which, owing to the ambulance in front, had stopped on the other side of the way. I was anxious to see him descend, that I might judge if his figure recalled that of the man I had seen cross the pavement the night before. But he did not descend. Just as his hand was on the carriage door, a half-dozen men appeared on the adjoining stoop carrying a burden which they hasten to deposit in the ambulance. He sank back when he saw it, and when his face became visible again, it was so white it seemed to be the only face in the street, though fifty people stood about, staring at the house, at the ambulance, and at him. Franklin Van Burnham had evidently come to the door with the rest. For Howard had no sooner showed his face the second time than we saw the former dash down the steps, and tried to part the crowd in a vain attempt to reach his brother's side. Mr. Grice was more successful. He had no difficulty in winning his way across the street, and presently I perceived him standing near the carriage, exchanging a few words with its occupant. A moment later he drew back, and addressing the driver jumped into the carriage with Howard, and was speedily driven off. The ambulance followed, and some of the crowd, and as soon as a hack could be obtained, Mr. Van Burnham and his son took the same road, leaving us three women in a state of suspense, which as far as one of us was concerned, ended in a nervous attack that was not unlike heart failure. I allude, of course, to Caroline, and it took Isabella and myself a good half-hour to bring her back to normal condition, and when this was done Isabella thought it incumbent upon her to go off into hysterics, which, being but a weak simulation of the other's state, I met with severity and cured with a frown. When both were in trim again I allowed myself one remark. One would think, said I, that you knew the young woman who had fallen victim to her folly next door. At which Isabella violently shook her head and Caroline observed, it is the excitement which has been too much for me. I am never strong, and this is such a dreadful home welcoming. When Will Father and Franklin come back, it was very unkind of them to go off without one word of encouragement. They probably did not consider the fate of this unknown woman a matter of any importance to you. The Van Burnham girls were unlike in appearance and character, but they showed an equal embarrassment at this, casting down their eyes and behaving so strangely that I was driven to wonder, without any show of hysterics I am happy to say, what would be the upshot of this matter, and how far I would become involved in it before the truth came to light. At dinner they displayed what I should call their best society manner. Seeing this I assumed my society manner also. It is formed on a different pattern from theirs, but is fully as impressive, I judge. A most formal meal was the result, my best china was in use, but I had added nothing to my usual course of vions. Indeed I had abstracted something. An entree upon which my cook-prides herself was omitted. Was I going to allow these proud young misses to think I had exerted myself to please them? No, rather would I have them considered mean-niggeredly and an enemy to good living. Although the entree was, as the French say, suppressed. In the evening their father came in, he was looking very dejected, and half his bluster was gone. He held a telegram crushed in his hand, and he talked very rapidly, but he confided none of his secrets to me, and was obliged to say good night to these young ladies, without knowing much more about the matter and grossing us than when I had left their house in the afternoon. But others were not as ignorant as myself. A dramatic and highly exciting scene had taken place that evening at the undertakers, to which the unknown's body had been removed. And as I have more than once heard it minutely described, I will endeavor to transcribe it here with all the impartiality of an outsider. When Mr. Grice entered the carriage in which Howard sat, he noted first that the young man was frightened, and second that he made no effort to hide it. He had heard almost nothing from the detective. He knew that there had been a hue and cry for him ever since noon, and that he was wanted to identify a young woman who had been found dead in his father's house. But beyond these facts he had been told little, and yet he seemed to have no curiosity, nor did he venture to express any surprise. He merely accepted the situation and was troubled by it, showing no inclination to talk till very near the end of his destination, when he subtly pulled himself together and ventured this question. How did she, the young woman as you call her, kill herself? The detective, who in his long career among criminals and suspected persons, had seen many men and encountered many conditions, roused at this query with much of his old spirit. Even from the man rather than toward him, he allowed himself a slight shrug of the shoulders, and he calmly replied, She was found under a heavy piece of furniture, the cabinet with the vases on it, which you must remember stood at the left of the mantelpiece. It had crushed her head and breast, quite a remarkable means of death, don't you think? There has been but one occurrence like it in my long experience. If I don't believe what you tell me, was the young man's astonished reply, you are trying to frighten me or make a game of me. No lady would make use of any such means of death as that. I did not say she was a lady, returned Mr. Grice, scoring one in his mind against his unwary companion. A shiver passed down the young man's side, where he came in contact with the detective. No, he muttered, but I gathered from what you said she was no common person, or why. He flashed out in sudden heat. Do you require me to go with you to see her? Have I the name of associating with any persons of the sex who are not ladies? Pardon me, said Mr. Grice, in grim delight at the prospect he saw slowly unfolding before him, of one of those complicated affairs in which minds like his unconsciously revel. I meant no insinuations. We have requested you, as we have requested your father and brother, to accompany us to the undertakers, because the identification of the corpse is a most important point, and every formality likely to ensure it must be observed. And did not they, my father and brother I mean, recognize her? It would be difficult for anyone to recognize her who was not well acquainted with her. A horrified look crossed the features of Howard Van Burnham, which, if a part of his acting, showed him to have genius for his role. His head sank back in the cushions of the carriage, and for a moment he closed his eyes. When he opened them again the carriage had stopped, and Mr. Grice, who had not noticed his emotion, of course, was looking out of the window with his hand on the handle of the door. Are we there already, asked the young man with a shutter? I wish you had not considered it necessary for me to see her. I shall detect nothing familiar in her, I know. Mr. Grice bowed, repeated that it was a mere formality, and followed the young gentleman into the building, and afterwards into the room where the dead body lay. A couple of doctors and one or two officials stood about, in whose faces the young man sought for something like encouragement, before casting his eyes in the direction indicated by the detective. But there was little in any of these faces to calm him, and turning shortly away he walked manfully across the room and took his stand by the detective. I am positive he began that it is not my wife. At this moment the cloth that had covered the body was removed, and he gave a great start of relief. I said so, he remarked codely, this is no one I know. His sigh was echoed in double chorus from the doorway. Glancing that way he encountered the faces of his father and elder brother and moved toward them with a relieved air that made quite another man of him in appearance. I have had my say, he remarked, shall I wait outside till you have had yours? We have already said all that we had to, Franklin returned. He declared that we do not recognize this person. Of course, of course, assented the other. I don't see why they should have expected us to know her. Some common suicide who thought the house empty, but how did she get in? Don't you know, said Mr. Grice, can it be that I forgot to tell you? Why she was led in at night by a young man of medium height. His eye ran up and down the graceful figure of the young elegant before him as he spoke, who left her inside and then went away, a young man who had a key. A key? Franklin, I—was it a look from Franklin which made him stop? It is possible, for he turned on his heel as he reached this point and tossing his head with quite a gay air exclaimed, but it is of no consequence. The girl is a stranger, and we have satisfied, I believe, all the requirements of the law in saying so, and may now drop the matter. Are you going to the club, Franklin? Yes, but here the elder brother drew nearer and whispered something into the other's ear, who at that whisper turned again towards the place where the dead woman lay. Seeing this movement, his anxious father wiped the moisture from his forehead. Silas Van Burnham had been silent up to this moment and seemed inclined to continue so, but he watched his younger son with painful intentness. Nonsense broke from Howard's lips as his brother ceased his communication, but he took a step nearer the body notwithstanding, and then another, and another, until he was at its side again. The hands had not been injured, as we have said, and upon these his eyes now fell. They are like hers, oh God! They are like hers, he muttered, growing gloomy at once. But where are the rings? There are no rings to be seen on these fingers, and she wore five including her wedding ring. Is it of your wife you are speaking? inquired Mr. Grice, who had edged up close to his side. The young man was caught unawares. He flushed deeply but answered up boldly and with great appearance of candor. Yes, my wife left Adam yesterday to come to New York, and I have not seen her since. Naturally I have felt some doubts lest this unhappy victim should be she. But I do not recognize her clothing, I do not recognize her form, only the hands look familiar, and the hair is of the same color as hers, but it's a very ordinary color. I do not dare to say from anything I see that this is my wife. We will call you again after the doctor has finished his autopsy, said Mr. Grice. Perhaps you will hear from Mrs. Van Burnham before then. But this intimation did not seem to bring comfort with it. Mr. Van Burnham walked away white and sick, for which display of emotion there was certainly some cause, and rejoining his father tried to carry off the moment with the aplomb of a man of the world. But that father's eye was fixed too steadily upon him, he faltered as he sat down, and finally spoke up with a feverish energy. If it is she, so help me God, her death is a mystery to me. We have quarreled more than once lately, and I have sometimes lost my patience with her. But she had no reason to wish for death, and I am ready to swear in defiance of those hands, which are certainly like hers. In the nameless something which Franklin calls a likeness, that it is a stranger who lies there and that her death in our house is a coincidence. Well, well, we will wait, was the detective's soothing reply. Sit down in the room opposite there, and give me your orders for supper, and I will see that a good meal has served you. The three gentlemen, seeing no way of refusing, followed the discreet official who preceded them, and the door of the doctor's room closed upon him, and the inquire is he was about to make. End of Chapter 5 CHAPTER 6 New Facts Mr. Van Burnham and his son had gone through the formality of supper, and were conversing in the haphazard way natural to men filled with a subject they dare not discuss, when the door opened and Mr. Grice came in. Being very calmly he dressed himself to the father. I am sorry, said he, to be obliged to inform you that this affair is much more serious than we anticipate him. This young woman was dead before the shelves laden with bric-a-brac fell upon her. It is a case of murder, obviously so, or I should not presume to forestall the coroner's jury in their verdict. Murder it is a word to shake the stoutest heart. The older gentleman reeled as he half-rose, and Franklin his son, betrayed in his own way an almost equal amount of emotion. But Howard shrugged his shoulders as if relieved of an immense weight, looked about with a cheerful air, and briskly cried, Then it is not the body of my wife you have there. No one would murder Louise. I shall go away and prove the truth of my words by hunting her up at once. The detective opened the door, beckoned in the doctor, who whispered two or three words into Howard's ear. They failed to awake the emotion he evidently expected. Howard looked surprised, but he answered without any change of voice. Yes, Louise has such a scar, and if it is true that this woman is similarly marked, then it is a mere coincidence. Nothing will convince me that my wife has been the victim of murder. Would you not better take a look at the scar just mentioned? No, I am so sure of what I say that I will not even consider the possibility of my being mistaken. I have examined the clothing on this body you have shown me, and not one article of it came from my wife's wardrobe. Nor would my wife go, as you have informed me this woman did, into a dark house at night with any other man than her husband. And so you absolutely refuse to acknowledge her? Most certainly. The detective paused, glanced at the troubled faces of the other two gentlemen, faces that had not perceptibly altered during these declarations, and suggestively remarked, You have not asked by what means she was killed. And I don't care, shouted Howard. It was by very peculiar means also new in my experience. It does not interest me, the other retorted. Mr. Grice turned to his father and brother. Does it interest you, he asked? The old gentleman, ordinarily so testy and so preemptory, silently nodded his head, while Franklin cried, Speak up quick, you detectives, hesitate over the disagreeables. Was she throttled or stabbed with a knife? I have said the means were peculiar. She was stabbed, but not with a knife. I know Mr. Grice well enough now to be sure that he did not glance towards Howard while saying this, and yet at the same time he did not miss the quiver of a muscle on his part or the motion of an eyelash. But Howard's assumed sang-froid remained undisturbed and his countenance imperturbable. The wound was so small, the detective went on, that it is a miracle it did not escape notice. It was made by the thrust of some very slender instrument through. The heart, put in Franklin? Of course, of course, assented the detective. What other spot is vulnerable enough to cause death? Is there any reason why we should not go, demanded Howard, ignoring the extreme interest manifested by the other two, with the determination that showed great dogginess of character? The detective ignored him. A quick stroke, a sure stroke, a fatal stroke, the girl never breathed after. But what of those things under which she lay crushed? Ah, in them lies the mystery. Her assailant must have been as subtle as he was sure. And still Howard showed no interest. I wish to telegraph to Adam, he declared, as no one answered the last remark, Adam was the place where he and his wife had been spending the summer. We have already telegraphed there, observed Mr. Grice, your wife has not yet returned. There are other places, defiantly insisted the other, I can find her if you give me the opportunity. Mr. Grice bowed. I am to give orders then for this body to be removed to the morgue. It was an unexpected suggestion, and for an instant Howard showed that he had feelings with the best. But he quickly recovered himself and, avoiding the anxious glances of his father and brother, answered with offensive lightness. I have nothing to do with that you must do as you think proper. And Mr. Grice felt that he had received a check, and did not know whether to admire the young man for his nerve, or to execrate him for brutality, that the woman who he had thus carelessly dismissed to the ignominy of public gaze was his wife, the detective did not doubt.