FROM WHOSE BOURNE

BY ROBERT BARR (LUKE SHARP)

AUTHOR OF "IN A STEAMER CHAIR" ETC. 

[Illustration: William Brenton. ]

_WITH FORTY-SEVEN ILLUSTRATIONS

BY C. M. D. HAMMOND, G. D. HAMMOND, AND HAL HURST_

1893

TO

AN HONEST MAN

AND

A GOOD WOMAN

FROM WHOSE BOURNE

PRINCIPAL ILLUSTRATIONS:

Buel placed his portmanteau on the deck

William Brenton

"Do you think I shall be missed?"

He again sat in the rocking-chair

He saw standing beside him a stranger

A Venetian Café

Venice

In Venice

The Brenton Murder

Mrs. Brenton

Gold

Publicity

The Broken Toy

"She's pretty as a picture"

Raising the Veil

Jane

The Detective

Jane Morton

"Oh, why did I do it?"

"How much time do you give me?"

In the prisoner's dock

"I feel very grateful to you"

"Here's the detailed report"

"Guilty! Guilty of what?"

CHAPTER I. 

"My dear, " said William Brenton to his wife, "do you think I shall bemissed if I go upstairs for a while? I am not feeling at all well. "

[Illustration: "Do you think I shall be missed?"]

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Will, " replied Alice, looking concerned; "I will tellthem you are indisposed. "

"No, don't do that, " was the answer; "they are having a very good time, and I suppose the dancing will begin shortly; so I don't think they willmiss me. If I feel better I will be down in an hour or two; if not, Ishall go to bed. Now, dear, don't worry; but have a good time with therest of them. "

William Brenton went quietly upstairs to his room, and sat down in thedarkness in a rocking chair. Remaining there a few minutes, and notfeeling any better, he slowly undressed and went to bed. Faint echoesreached him of laughter and song; finally, music began, and he felt, rather than heard, the pulsation of dancing feet. Once, when the musichad ceased for a time, Alice tiptoed into the room, and said in a quietvoice--

"How are you feeling, Will? any better?"

"A little, " he answered drowsily. "Don't worry about me; I shall dropoff to sleep presently, and shall be all right in the morning. Goodnight. "

He still heard in a dreamy sort of way the music, the dancing, thelaughter; and gradually there came oblivion, which finally merged intoa dream, the most strange and vivid vision he had ever experienced. It seemed to him that he sat again in the rocking chair near the bed. Although he knew the room was dark, he had no difficulty in seeingeverything perfectly. He heard, now quite plainly, the music and dancingdownstairs, but what gave a ghastly significance to his dream was thesight of his own person on the bed. The eyes were half open, and theface was drawn and rigid. The colour of the face was the white, greyishtint of death. 

"This is a nightmare, " said Brenton to himself; "I must try and wakemyself. " But he seemed powerless to do this, and he sat there looking athis own body while the night wore on. Once he rose and went to the sideof the bed. He seemed to have reached it merely by wishing himselfthere, and he passed his hand over the face, but no feeling of touch wascommunicated to him. He hoped his wife would come and rouse him fromthis fearful semblance of a dream, and, wishing this, he found himselfstanding at her side, amidst the throng downstairs, who were now merrilysaying good-bye. Brenton tried to speak to his wife, but although hewas conscious of speaking, she did not seem to hear him, or know he wasthere. 

[Illustration: He again sat in the rocking-chair. ]

The party had been one given on Christmas Eve, and as it was now twoo'clock in the morning, the departing guests were wishing Mrs. Brenton amerry Christmas. Finally, the door closed on the last of the revellers, and Mrs. Brenton stood for a moment giving instructions to the sleepyservants; then, with a tired sigh, she turned and went upstairs, Brentonwalking by her side until they came to the darkened room, which sheentered on tiptoe. 

"Now, " said Brenton to himself, "she will arouse me from this appallingdream. " It was not that there was anything dreadful in the dream itself, but the clearness with which he saw everything, and the fact that hismind was perfectly wide awake, gave him an uneasiness which he foundimpossible to shake off. 

In the dim light from the hall his wife prepared to retire. The horriblethought struck Brenton that she imagined he was sleeping soundly, and was anxious not to awaken him--for of course she could have norealization of the nightmare he was in--so once again he tried tocommunicate with her. He spoke her name over and over again, but sheproceeded quietly with her preparations for the night. At last she creptin at the other side of the bed, and in a few moments was asleep. Oncemore Brenton struggled to awake, but with no effect. He heard the clockstrike three, and then four, and then five, but there was no apparentchange in his dream. He feared that he might be in a trance, from which, perhaps, he would not awake until it was too late. Grey daylight beganto brighten the window, and he noticed that snow was quietly fallingoutside, the flakes noiselessly beating against the window pane. Everyone slept late that morning, but at last he heard the preparations forbreakfast going on downstairs--the light clatter of china on the table, the rattle of the grate; and, as he thought of these things, he foundhimself in the dining-room, and saw the trim little maid, who stillyawned every now and then, laying the plates in their places. He wentupstairs again, and stood watching the sleeping face of his wife. Onceshe raised her hand above her head, and he thought she was going toawake; ultimately her eyes opened, and she gazed for a time at theceiling, seemingly trying to recollect the events of the day before. 

"Will, " she said dreamily, "are you still asleep?"

There was no answer from the rigid figure at the front of the bed. Aftera few moments she placed her hand quietly over the sleeper's face. Asshe did so, her startled eyes showed that she had received a shock. Instantly she sat upright in bed, and looked for one brief second on theface of the sleeper beside her; then, with a shriek that pierced thestillness of the room, she sprang to the floor. 

"Will! Will!" she cried, "speak to me! What is the matter with you? Oh, my God! my God!" she cried, staggering back from the bed. Then, withshriek after shriek, she ran blindly through the hall to the stairway, and there fell fainting on the floor. 

CHAPTER II. 

William Brenton knelt beside the fallen lady, and tried to soothe andcomfort her, but it was evident that she was insensible. 

"It is useless, " said a voice by his side. 

Brenton looked up suddenly, and saw standing beside him a stranger. Wondering for a moment how he got there, and thinking that after all itwas a dream, he said--

"What is useless? She is not dead. "

"No, " answered the stranger, "but _you_ are. "

[Illustration: He saw standing beside him a stranger. ]

"I am what?" cried Brenton. 

"You are what the material world calls dead, although in reality youhave just begun to live. "

"And who are you?" asked Brenton. "And how did you get in here?"

The other smiled. 

"How did _you_ get in here?" he said, repeating Brenton's words. 

"I? Why, this is my own house. "

"Was, you mean. "

"I mean that it is. I am in my own house. This lady is my wife. "

"_Was_, " said the other. 

"I do not understand you, " cried Brenton, very much annoyed. "But, inany case, your presence and your remarks are out of place here. "

"My dear sir, " said the other, "I merely wish to aid you and to explainto you anything that you may desire to know about your new condition. You are now free from the incumbrance of your body. You have already hadsome experience of the additional powers which that riddance has givenyou. You have also, I am afraid, had an inkling of the fact that thespiritual condition has its limitations. If you desire to communicatewith those whom you have left, I would strongly advise you to postponethe attempt, and to leave this place, where you will experience onlypain and anxiety. Come with me, and learn something of your changedcircumstances. "

"I am in a dream, " said Brenton, "and you are part of it. I went tosleep last night, and am still dreaming. This is a nightmare and it willsoon be over. "

"You are saying that, " said the other, "merely to convince yourself. It is now becoming apparent to you that this is not a dream. If dreamsexist, it was a dream which you left, but you have now become awake. Ifyou really think it is a dream, then do as I tell you--come with me andleave it, because you must admit that this part of the dream is at leastvery unpleasant. "

"It is not very pleasant, " assented Brenton. As he spoke the bewilderedservants came rushing up the stairs, picked up their fallen mistress, and laid her on a sofa. They rubbed her hands and dashed water in herface. She opened her eyes, and then closed them again with a shudder. 

"Sarah, " she cried, "have I been dreaming, or is your master dead?"

The two girls turned pale at this, and the elder of them went boldlyinto the room which her mistress had just left. She was evidentlya young woman who had herself under good control, but she came outsobbing, with her apron to her eyes. 

"Come, come, " said the man who stood beside Brenton, "haven't you hadenough of this? Come with me; you can return to this house if you wish;"and together they passed out of the room into the crisp air of Christmasmorning. But, although Brenton knew it must be cold, he had no feelingof either cold or warmth. 

"There are a number of us, " said the stranger to Brenton, "who taketurns at watching the sick-bed when a man is about to die, and when hisspirit leaves his body, we are there to explain, or comfort, or console. Your death was so sudden that we had no warning of it. You did not feelill before last night, did you?"

"No, " replied Brenton. "I felt perfectly well, until after dinner lastnight. "

"Did you leave your affairs in reasonably good order?"

"Yes, " said Brenton, trying to recollect. "I think they will findeverything perfectly straight. "

"Tell me a little of your history, if you do not mind, " inquired theother; "it will help me in trying to initiate you into our new order ofthings here. "

"Well, " replied Brenton, and he wondered at himself for falling soeasily into the other's assumption that he was a dead man, "I was whatthey call on the earth in reasonably good circumstances. My estateshould be worth $100, 000. I had $75, 000 insurance on my life, and if allthat is paid, it should net my widow not far from a couple of hundredthousand. "

"How long have you been married?" said the other. 

[Illustration: A Venetian café. ]

"Only about six months. I was married last July, and we went for a tripabroad. We were married quietly, and left almost immediately afterwards, so we thought, on our return, it would not be a bad plan to give aChristmas Eve dinner, and invite some of our friends. That, " he said, hesitating a moment, "was last night. Shortly after dinner, I began tofeel rather ill, and went upstairs to rest for a while; and if what yousay is true, the first thing I knew I found myself dead. "

"Alive, " corrected the other. 

"Well, alive, though at present I feel I belong more to the world I haveleft than I do to the world I appear to be in. I must confess, althoughyou are a very plausible gentleman to talk to, that I expect at anymoment to wake and find this to have been one of the most horriblenightmares that I ever had the ill luck to encounter. "

The other smiled. 

"There is very little danger of your waking up, as you call it. Now, Iwill tell you the great trouble we have with people when they first cometo the spirit-land, and that is to induce them to forget entirelythe world they have relinquished. Men whose families are in poorcircumstances, or men whose affairs are in a disordered state, find itvery difficult to keep from trying to set things right again. They havethe feeling that they can console or comfort those whom they have leftbehind them, and it is often a long time before they are convinced thattheir efforts are entirely futile, as well as very distressing forthemselves. "

"Is there, then, " asked Brenton, "no communication between this worldand the one that I have given up?"

The other paused for a moment before he replied. 

"I should hardly like to say, " he answered, "that there is _no_communication between one world and the other; but the communicationthat exists is so slight and unsatisfactory, that if you are sensibleyou will see things with the eyes of those who have very much moreexperience in this world than you have. Of course, you can go back thereas much as you like; there will be no interference and no hindrance. But when you see things going wrong, when you see a mistake about tobe made, it is an appalling thing to stand there helpless, unable toinfluence those you love, or to point out a palpable error, and convincethem that your clearer sight sees it as such. Of course, I understandthat it must be very difficult for a man who is newly married, toentirely abandon the one who has loved him, and whom he loves. ButI assure you that if you follow the life of one who is as young andhandsome as your wife, you will find some one else supplying theconsolations you are unable to bestow. Such a mission may lead you to achurch where she is married to her second husband. I regret to say thateven the most imperturbable spirits are ruffled when such an incidentoccurs. The wise men are those who appreciate and understand that theyare in an entirely new world, with new powers and new limitations, andwho govern themselves accordingly from the first, as they will certainlydo later on. "

"My dear sir, " said Brenton, somewhat offended, "if what you say istrue, and I am really a dead man----"

"Alive, " corrected the other. 

"Well, alive, then. I may tell you that my wife's heart is broken. Shewill never marry again. "

"Of course, that is a subject of which you know a great deal more than Ido. I all the more strongly advise you never to see her again. It isimpossible for you to offer any consolation, and the sight of her griefand misery will only result in unhappiness for yourself. Therefore, takemy advice. I have given it very often, and I assure you those who didnot take it expressed their regret afterwards. Hold entirely aloof fromanything relating to your former life. "

Brenton was silent for some moments; finally he said--

"I presume your advice is well meant; but if things are as you state, then I may as well say, first as last, that I do not intend to acceptit. "

"Very well, " said the other; "it is an experience that many prefer to gothrough for themselves. "

"Do you have names in this spirit-land?" asked Brenton, seeminglydesirous of changing the subject. 

"Yes, " was the answer; "we are known by names that we have used in thepreparatory school below. My name is Ferris. "

"And if I wish to find you here, how do I set about it?"

"The wish is sufficient, " answered Ferris. "Merely wish to be with me, and you _are_ with me. "

"Good gracious!" cried Brenton, "is locomotion so easy as that?"

"Locomotion is very easy. I do not think anything could be easierthan it is, and I do not think there could be any improvement in thatmatter. "

"Are there matters here, then, that you think could be improved?"

"As to that I shall not say. Perhaps you will be able to give your ownopinion before you have lived here much longer. "

"Taking it all in all, " said Brenton, "do you think the spirit-land isto be preferred to the one we have left?"

"I like it better, " said Ferris, "although I presume there are somewho do not. There are many advantages; and then, again, there aremany--well, I would not say disadvantages, but still some peopleconsider them such. We are free from the pangs of hunger or cold, andhave therefore no need of money, and there is no necessity for the rushand the worry of the world below. "

"And how about heaven and hell?" said Brenton. "Are those localities alla myth? Is there nothing of punishment and nothing of reward in thisspirit-land?"

There was no answer to this, and when Brenton looked around he foundthat his companion had departed. 

[Illustration: Venice. ]

CHAPTER III. 

William Brenton pondered long on the situation. He would have knownbetter how to act if he could have been perfectly certain that he wasnot still the victim of a dream. However, of one thing there was nodoubt--namely, that it was particularly harrowing to see what he hadseen in his own house. If it were true that he was dead, he said tohimself, was not the plan outlined for him by Ferris very much the wisercourse to adopt? He stood now in one of the streets of the city sofamiliar to him. People passed and repassed him--men and women whomhe had known in life--but nobody appeared to see him. He resolved, ifpossible, to solve the problem uppermost in his mind, and learn whetheror not he could communicate with an inhabitant of the world he had left. He paused for a moment to consider the best method of doing this. Thenhe remembered one of his most confidential friends and advisers, and atonce wished himself at his office. He found the office closed, but wentin to wait for his friend. Occupying the time in thinking over hisstrange situation, he waited long, and only when the bells began to ringdid he remember it was Christmas forenoon, and that his friend wouldnot be at the office that day. The next moment he wished himself at hisfriend's house, but he was as unsuccessful as at the office; the friendwas not at home. The household, however, was in great commotion, and, listening to what was said, he found that the subject of conversationwas his own death, and he learned that his friend had gone to theBrenton residence as soon as he heard the startling news of Christmasmorning. 

Once more Brenton paused, and did not know what to do. He went againinto the street. Everything seemed to lead him toward his own home. Although he had told Ferris that he did not intend to take his advice, yet as a sensible man he saw that the admonition was well worthconsidering, and if he could once become convinced that there was nocommunication possible between himself and those he had left; if hecould give them no comfort and no cheer; if he could see the thingswhich they did not see, and yet be unable to give them warning, herealized that he would merely be adding to his own misery, withoutalleviating the troubles of others. 

He wished he knew where to find Ferris, so that he might have anothertalk with him. The man impressed him as being exceedingly sensible. Nosooner, however, had he wished for the company of Mr. Ferris than hefound himself beside that gentleman. 

"By George!" he said in astonishment, "you are just the man I wanted tosee. "

"Exactly, " said Ferris; "that is the reason you do see me. "

"I have been thinking over what you said, " continued the other, "and itstrikes me that after all your advice is sensible. "

"Thank you, " replied Ferris, with something like a smile on his face. 

"But there is one thing I want to be perfectly certain about. I want toknow whether it is not possible for me to communicate with my friends. Nothing will settle that doubt in my mind except actual experience. "

"And have you not had experience enough?" asked Ferris. 

"Well, " replied the other, hesitating, "I have had some experience, butit seems to me that, if I encounter an old friend, I could somehow makemyself felt by him. "

"In that case, " answered Ferris, "if nothing will convince you but anactual experiment, why don't you go to some of your old friends and trywhat you can do with them?"

"I have just been to the office and to the residence of one of my oldfriends. I found at his residence that he had gone to my"--Brentonpaused for a moment--"former home. Everything seems to lead me there, and yet, if I take your advice, I must avoid that place of all others. "

"I would at present, if I were you, " said Ferris. "Still, why not try itwith any of the passers-by?"

Brenton looked around him. People were passing and repassing where thetwo stood talking with each other. "Merry Christmas" was the word on alllips. Finally Brenton said, with a look of uncertainty on his face--

"My dear fellow, I can't talk to any of these people. I don't knowthem. "

Ferris laughed at this, and replied--

"I don't think you will shock them very much; just try it. "

"Ah, here's a friend of mine. You wait a moment, and I will accost him. "Approaching him, Brenton held out his hand and spoke, but the travellerpaid no attention. He passed by as one who had seen or heard nothing. 

"I assure you, " said Ferris, as he noticed the look of disappointment onthe other's face, "you will meet with a similar experience, however muchyou try. You know the old saying about one not being able to have hiscake and eat it too. You can't have the privileges of this world andthose of the world you left as well. I think, taking it all in all, youshould rest content, although it always hurts those who have left theother world not to be able to communicate with their friends, and atleast assure them of their present welfare. "

"It does seem to me, " replied Brenton, "that would be a greatconsolation, both for those who are here and those who are left. "

"Well, I don't know about that, " answered the other. "After all, whatdoes life in the other world amount to? It is merely a preparation forthis. It is of so short a space, as compared with the life we live here, that it is hardly worth while to interfere with it one way or another. By the time you are as long here as I have been, you will realize thetruth of this. "

"Perhaps I shall, " said Brenton, with a sigh; "but, meanwhile, what amI to do with myself? I feel like the man who has been all his lifein active business, and who suddenly resolves to enjoy himself doingnothing. That sort of thing seems to kill a great number of men, especially if they put off taking a rest until too late, as most of usdo. "

"Well, " said Ferris, "there is no necessity of your being idle here, Iassure you. But before you lay out any work for yourself, let me ask youif there is not some interesting part of the world that you would liketo visit?"

"Certainly; I have seen very little of the world. That is one of myregrets at leaving it. "

"Bless me, " said the other, "you haven't left it. "

"Why, I thought you said I was a dead man?"

"On the contrary, " replied his companion, "I have several times insistedthat you have just begun to live. Now where shall we spend the day?"

"How would London do?"

"I don't think it would do; London is apt to be a little gloomy at thistime of the year. But what do you say to Naples, or Japan, or, if youdon't wish to go out of the United States, Yellowstone Park?"

"Can we reach any of those places before the day is over?" askedBrenton, dubiously. 

"Well, I will soon show you how we manage all that. Just wish toaccompany me, and I will take you the rest of the way. "

"How would Venice do?" said Brenton. "I didn't see half as much of thatcity as I wanted to. "

"Very well, " replied his companion, "Venice it is;" and the Americancity in which they stood faded away from them, and before Brenton couldmake up his mind exactly what was happening, he found himself walkingwith his comrade in St. Mark's Square. 

"Well, for rapid transit, " said Brenton, "this beats anything I've everhad any idea of; but it increases the feeling that I am in a dream. "

"You'll soon get used to it, " answered Ferris; "and, when you do, thecumbersome methods of travel in the world itself will show themselves intheir right light. Hello!" he cried, "here's a man whom I shouldlike you to meet. By the way, I either don't know your name or I haveforgotten it. "

"William Brenton, " answered the other. 

"Mr. Speed, I want to introduce you to Mr. Brenton. "

"Ah, " said Speed, cordially, "a new-comer. One of your victims, Ferris?"

"Say one of his pupils, rather, " answered Brenton. 

[Illustration: In Venice. ]

"Well, it is pretty much the same thing, " said Speed. "How long have youbeen with us, and how do you like the country?"

"You see, Mr. Brenton, " interrupted Ferris, "John Speed was a newspaperman, and he must ask strangers how they like the country. He hasinquired so often while interviewing foreigners for his paper that nowhe cannot abandon his old phrase. Mr. Brenton has been with us but ashort time, " continued Ferris, "and so you know, Speed, you can hardlyexpect him to answer your inevitable question. "

"What part of the country are you from?" asked Speed. 

"Cincinnati, " answered Brenton, feeling almost as if he were an Americantourist doing the continent of Europe. 

"Cincinnati, eh? Well, I congratulate you. I do not know any place inAmerica that I would sooner die in, as they call it, than Cincinnati. You see, I am a Chicago man myself. "

Brenton did not like the jocular familiarity of the newspaper man, andfound himself rather astonished to learn that in the spirit-world therewere likes and dislikes, just as on earth. 

"Chicago is a very enterprising city, " he said, in a non-committal way. 

"Chicago, my dear sir, " said Speed, earnestly, "is _the_ city. You willsee that Chicago is going to be the great city of the world before youare a hundred years older. By the way, Ferris, " said the Chicago man, suddenly recollecting something, "I have got Sommers over here with me. "

"Ah!" said Ferris; "doing him any good?"

"Well, precious little, as far as I can see. "

"Perhaps it would interest Mr. Brenton to meet him, " said Ferris. "Ithink, Brenton, you asked me a while ago if there was any hell here, orany punishment. Mr. Speed can show you a man in hell. "

"Really?" asked Brenton. 

"Yes, " said Speed; "I think if ever a man was in misery, he is. Thetrouble with Sommers was this. He--well, he died of delirium tremens, and so, of course, you know what the matter was. Sommers had drunkChicago whisky for thirty-five years straight along, and never added toit the additional horror of Chicago water. You see what his conditionbecame, both physical and mental. Many people tried to reform Sommers, because he was really a brilliant man; but it was no use. Thirst hadbecome a disease with him, and from the mental part of that disease, although his physical yearning is now gone of course, he suffers. Sommers would give his whole future for one glass of good old Kentuckywhisky. He sees it on the counters, he sees men drink it, and he standsbeside them in agony. That's why I brought him over here. I thought thathe wouldn't see the colour of whisky as it sparkles in the glass; butnow he is in the Café Quadra watching men drink. You may see him sittingthere with all the agony of unsatisfied desire gleaming from his face. "

"And what do you do with a man like that?" asked Brenton. 

"Do? Well, to tell the truth, there is nothing _to_ do. I took him awayfrom Chicago, hoping to ease his trouble a little; but it has had noeffect. "

"It will come out all right by-and-by, " said Ferris, who noticed thepained look on Brenton's face. "It is the period of probation thathe has to pass through. It will wear off. He merely goes through theagonies he would have suffered on earth if he had suddenly been deprivedof his favourite intoxicant. "

"Well, " said Speed, "you won't come with me, then? All right, good-bye. I hope to see you again, Mr. Brenton, " and with that they separated. 

Brenton spent two or three days in Venice, but all the time the old homehunger was upon him. He yearned for news of Cincinnati. He wanted to beback, and several times the wish brought him there, but he instantlyreturned. At last he said to Ferris--

"I am tired. I must go home. I have _got_ to see how things are going. "

"I wouldn't if I were you, " replied Ferris. 

"No, I know you wouldn't. Your temperament is indifferent. I wouldrather be miserable with knowledge than happy in ignorance. Good-bye. "

It was evening when he found himself in Cincinnati. The weather wasbright and clear, and apparently cold. Men's feet crisped on the frozenpavement, and the streets had that welcome, familiar look which theyalways have to the returned traveller when he reaches the city he callshis home. The newsboys were rushing through the streets yelling theirpapers at the top of their voices. He heard them, but paid littleattention. 

"All about the murder! Latest edition! All about the poison case!"

He felt that he must have a glimpse at a paper, and, entering the officeof an hotel where a man was reading one, he glanced over his shoulderat the page before him, and was horror-stricken to see the words instartling headlines--

 THE BRENTON MURDER. _The Autopsy shows that Morphine was the Poison used. Enough found to have killed a Dozen Men. Mrs. Brenton arrested for Committing the Horrible Deed_. 

[Illustration: The Brenton Murder. ]

CHAPTER IV. 

For a moment Brenton was so bewildered and amazed at the awful headlineswhich he read, that he could hardly realize what had taken place. The fact that he had been poisoned, although it gave him a strangesensation, did not claim his attention as much as might have beenthought. Curiously enough he was more shocked at finding himself, asit were, the talk of the town, the central figure of a great newspapersensation. But the thing that horrified him was the fact that his wifehad been arrested for his murder. His first impulse was to go to her atonce, but he next thought it better to read what the paper said aboutthe matter, so as to become possessed of all the facts. The headlines, he said to himself, often exaggerated things, and there was apossibility that the body of the article would not bear out the namingannouncement above it. But as he read on and on, the situation seemedto become more and more appalling. He saw that his friends had beensuspicious of his sudden death, and had insisted on a post-mortemexamination. That examination had been conducted by three of the mosteminent physicians of Cincinnati, and the three doctors had practicallyagreed that the deceased, in the language of the verdict, had come tohis death through morphia poisoning, and the coroner's jury had broughtin a verdict that "the said William Brenton had been poisoned by someperson unknown. " Then the article went on to state how suspicion hadgradually fastened itself upon his wife, and at last her arrest had beenordered. The arrest had taken place that day. 

[Illustration: Mrs. Brenton. ]

After reading this, Brenton was in an agony of mind. He pictured hisdainty and beautiful wife in a stone cell in the city prison. He foresawthe horrors of the public trial, and the deep grief and pain whichthe newspaper comments on the case would cause to a woman educated andrefined. Of course, Brenton had not the slightest doubt in his own mindabout the result of the trial. His wife would be triumphantly acquitted;but, all the same, the terrible suspense which she must suffer in themeanwhile would not be compensated for by the final verdict of the jury. 

Brenton at once went to the jail, and wandered through that gloomybuilding, searching for his wife. At last he found her, but it was ina very comfortable room in the sheriffs residence. The terror and thetrials of the last few days had aged her perceptibly, and it cut Brentonto the heart to think that he stood there before her, and could not byany means say a soothing word that she would understand. That she hadwept many bitter tears since the terrible Christmas morning was evident;there were dark circles under her beautiful eyes that told of sleeplessnights. She sat in a comfortable armchair, facing the window; and lookedsteadily out at the dreary winter scene with eyes that apparently sawnothing. Her hands lay idly on her lap, and now and then she caught herbreath in a way that was half a sob and half a gasp. 

Presently the sheriff himself entered the room. 

"Mrs. Brenton, " he said, "there is a gentleman here who wishes to seeyou. Mr. Roland, he tells me his name is, an old friend of yours. Do youcare to see any one?"

The lady turned her head slowly round, and looked at the sheriff for amoment, seemingly not understanding what he said. Finally she answered, dreamily--

"Roland? Oh, Stephen! Yes, I shall be very glad to see him. Ask him tocome in, please. "

The next moment Stephen Roland entered, and somehow the fact that he hadcome to console Mrs. Brenton did not at all please the invisible man whostood between them. 

"My dear Mrs. Brenton, " began Roland, "I hope you are feeling betterto-day? Keep up your courage, and be brave. It is only for a very shorttime. I have retained the noted criminal lawyers, Benham and Brown, forthe defence. You could not possibly have better men. "

At the word "criminal" Mrs. Brenton shuddered. 

"Alice, " continued Roland, sitting down near her, and drawing his chaircloser to her, "tell me that you will not lose your courage. I want youto be brave, for the sake of your friends. "

He took her listless hand in his own, and she did not withdraw it. 

Brenton felt passing over him the pangs of impotent rage, as he saw thisact on the part of Roland. 

Roland had been an unsuccessful suitor for the hand which he now heldin his own, and Brenton thought it the worst possible taste, to say theleast, that he should take advantage now of her terrible situation toingratiate himself into her favour. 

The nearest approach to a quarrel that Brenton and his wife had hadduring their short six months of wedded life was on the subject of theman who now held her hand in his own. It made Brenton impatient to thinkthat a woman with all her boasted insight into character, her instinctsas to what was right and what was wrong, had such little real intuitionthat she did not see into the character of the man whom they werediscussing; but a woman never thinks it a crime for a man to have beenin love with her, whatever opinion of that man her husband may hold. 

"It is awful! awful! awful!" murmured the poor lady, as the tears againrose to her eyes. 

"Of course it is, " said Roland; "it is particularly awful that theyshould accuse you, of all persons in the world, of this so-called crime. For my part I do not believe that he was poisoned at all, but we willsoon straighten things out. Benham and Brown will give up everythingand devote their whole attention to this case until it is finished. Everything will be done that money or friends can do, and all that weask is that you keep up your courage, and do not be downcast with theseeming awfulness of the situation. "

Mrs. Brenton wept silently, but made no reply. It was evident, however, that she was consoled by the words and the presence of her visitor. Strange as it may appear, this fact enraged Brenton, although he hadgone there for the very purpose of cheering and comforting his wife. Allthe bitterness he had felt before against his former rival was revived, and his rage was the more agonizing because it was inarticulate. Thenthere flashed over him Ferris's sinister advice to leave things alone inthe world that he had left. He felt that he could stand this no longer, and the next instant he found himself again in the wintry streets ofCincinnati. 

The name of the lawyers, Benham and Brown, kept repeating itself in hismind, and he resolved to go to their office and hear, if he could, whatpreparations were being made for the defence of a woman whom he knew tobe innocent. He found, when he got to the office of these noted lawyers, that the two principals were locked in their private room; and goingthere, he found them discussing the case with the coolness andimpersonal feeling that noted lawyers have even when speaking of issuesthat involve life or death. 

"Yes, " Benham was saying, "I think that, unless anything new turns up, that is the best line of defence we can adopt. "

"What do you think might turn up?" asked Brown. 

"Well, you can never tell in these cases. They may find somethingelse--they may find the poison, for instance, or the package thatcontained it. Perhaps a druggist will remember having sold it to thiswoman, and then, of course, we shall have to change our plans. I neednot say that it is strictly necessary in this case to give out noopinions whatever to newspaper men. The papers will be full of rumours, and it is just as well if we can keep our line of defence hidden untilthe time for action comes. "

"Still, " said Brown, who was the younger partner, "it is as well to keepin with the newspaper fellows; they'll be here as soon as they find wehave taken charge of the defence. "

"Well, I have no doubt you can deal with them in such a way as to givethem something to write up, and yet not disclose anything we do not wishknown. "

"I think you can trust me to do that, " said Brown, with a self-satisfiedair. 

"I shall leave that part of the matter entirely in your hands, " repliedBenham. "It is better not to duplicate or mix matters, and if anynewspaper man comes to see me I will refer him to you. I will say I knownothing of the case whatever. "

"Very well, " answered Brown. "Now, between ourselves, what do you thinkof the case?"

[Illustration]

"Oh, it will make a great sensation. I think it will probably be one ofthe most talked-of cases that we have ever been connected with. "

"Yes, but what do you think of her guilt or innocence?"

"As to that, " said Benham, calmly, "I haven't the slightest doubt. Shemurdered him. "

As he said this, Brenton, forgetting himself for a moment, sprangforward as if to strangle the lawyer. The statement Benham had madeseemed the most appalling piece of treachery. That men should take awoman's money for defending her, and actually engage in a case when theybelieved their client guilty, appeared to Brenton simply infamous. 

"I agree with you, " said Brown. "Of course she was the only one tobenefit by his death. The simple fool willed everything to her, and sheknew it; and his doing so is the more astounding when you remember hewas quite well aware that she had a former lover whom she would gladlyhave married if he had been as rich as Brenton. The supreme idiocy ofsome men as far as their wives are concerned is something awful. "

[Illustration: Publicity. ]

"Yes, " answered Benham, "it is. But I tell you, Brown, she is noordinary woman. The very conception of that murder had a stroke oforiginality about it that I very much admire. I do not remember anythinglike it in the annals of crime. It is the true way in which a murdershould be committed. The very publicity of the occasion was a safeguard. Think of poisoning a man at a dinner that he has given himself, in themidst of a score of friends. I tell you that there was a dash of braveryabout it that commands my admiration. "

"Do you imagine Roland had anything to do with it?"

"Well, I had my doubts about that at first, but I think he is innocent, although from what I know of the man he will not hesitate to share theproceeds of the crime. You mark my words, they will be married withina year from now if she is acquitted. I believe Roland knows her to beguilty. "

"I thought as much, " said Brown, "by his actions here, and by someremarks he let drop. Anyhow, our credit in the affair will be all thegreater if we succeed in getting her off. Yes, " he continued, rising andpushing back his chair, "Madam Brenton is a murderess. "

CHAPTER V. 

Brenton found himself once more in the streets of Cincinnati, in a stateof mind that can hardly be described. Rage and grief struggled for themastery, and added to the tumult of these passions was the uncertaintyas to what he should do, or what he _could_ do. He could hardly ask theadvice of Ferris again, for his whole trouble arose from his neglect ofthe counsel that gentleman had already given him. In his new sphere hedid not know where to turn. He found himself wondering whether in thespirit-land there was any firm of lawyers who could advise him, and heremembered then how singularly ignorant he was regarding the conditionsof existence in the world to which he now belonged. However, he feltthat he must consult with somebody, and Ferris was the only one to whomhe could turn. A moment later he was face to face with him. 

"Mr. Ferris, " he said, "I am in the most grievous trouble, and I come toyou in the hope that, if you cannot help me, you can at least advise mewhat to do. "

"If your trouble has come, " answered Ferris, with a shade of irony inhis voice, "through following the advice that I have already given you, I shall endeavour, as well as I am able, to help you out of it. "

"You know very well, " cried Brenton, hotly, "that my whole troublehas occurred through neglecting your advice, or, at least, throughdeliberately not following it. I _could_ not follow it. "

"Very well, then, " said Ferris, "I am not surprised that you are in adifficulty. You must remember that such a crisis is an old story with ushere. "

"But, my dear sir, " said Brenton, "look at the appalling condition ofthings, the knowledge of which has just come to me. It seems I waspoisoned, but of course that doesn't matter. I feel no resentmentagainst the wretch who did it. But the terrible thing is that my wifehas been arrested for the crime, and I have just learned that her ownlawyers actually believe her guilty. "

"That fact, " said Ferris, calmly, "will not interfere with theireloquent pleading when the case comes to trial. "

Brenton glared at the man who was taking things so coolly, and whoproved himself so unsympathetic; but an instant after he realized thefutility of quarrelling with the only person who could give him advice, so he continued, with what patience he could command--

"The situation is this: My wife has been arrested for the crime ofmurdering me. She is now in the custody of the sheriff. Her trouble andanxiety of mind are fearful to contemplate. "

"My dear sir, " said Ferris, "there is no reason why you or anybody elseshould contemplate it. "

"How can you talk in that cold-blooded way?" cried Brenton, indignantly. "Could you see _your_ wife, or any one _you_ held dear, incarcerated fora dreadful crime, and yet remain calm and collected, as you now appearto be when you hear of another's misfortune?"

"My dear fellow, " said Ferris, "of course it is not to be expected thatone who has had so little experience with this existence should have anysense of proportion. You appear to be speaking quite seriously. You donot seem at all to comprehend the utter triviality of all this. "

"Good gracious!" cried Brenton, "do you call it a trivial thing that awoman is in danger of her life for a crime which she never committed?"

"If she is innocent, " said the other, in no way moved by the indignationof his comrade, "surely that state of things will be brought out in thecourts, and no great harm will be done, even looking at things from thestandpoint of the world you have left. But I want you to get into thehabit of looking at things from the standpoint of this world, and notof the other. Suppose that what you would call the worst shouldhappen--suppose she is hanged--what then?"

Brenton stood simply speechless with indignation at this brutal remark. 

"If you will just look at things correctly, " continued Ferris, imperturbably, "you will see that there is probably a moment of anguish, perhaps not even that moment, and then your wife is here with you in theland of spirits. I am sure that is a consummation devoutly to be wished. Even a man in your state of mind must see the reasonableness of this. Now, looking at the question in what you would call its most seriousaspect, see how little it amounts to. It isn't worth a moment's thought, whichever way it goes. "

"You think nothing, then, of the disgrace of such a death--of the bitterinjustice of it?"

[Illustration: The broken toy. ]

"When you were in the world did you ever see a child cry over a brokentoy? Did the sight pain you to any extent? Did you not know that a newtoy could be purchased that would quite obliterate all thoughts of theother? Did the simple griefs of childhood carry any deep and lastingconsternation to the mind of a grown-up man? Of course it did not. Youare sensible enough to know that. Well, we here in this world look onthe pain and struggles and trials of people in the world you have left, just as an aged man looks on the tribulations of children over a brokendoll. That is all it really amounts to. That is what I mean when I saythat you have not yet got your sense of proportion. Any grief and miserythere is in the world you have left is of such an ephemeral, transientnature, that when we think for a moment of the free, untrammelled, and painless life there is beyond, those petty troubles sink intoinsignificance. My dear fellow, be sensible, take my advice. I havereally a strong interest in you, and I advise you, entirely for your ownwelfare, to forget all about it. Very soon you will have something muchmore important to do than lingering around the world you have left. Ifyour wife comes amongst us I am sure you will be glad to welcome her, and to teach her the things that you will have already found out of yournew life. If she does not appear, then you will know that, even from theold-world standpoint, things have gone what you would call 'all right. 'Let these trivial matters go, and attend to the vastly more importantconcerns that will soon engage your attention here. "

Ferris talked earnestly, and it was evident, even to Brenton, that hemeant what he said. It was hard to find a pretext for a quarrel with aman at once so calm and so perfectly sure of himself. 

"We will not talk any more about it, " said Brenton. "I presume peoplehere agree to differ, just as they did in the world we have both left. "

"Certainly, certainly, " answered Ferris. "Of course, you have just heardmy opinion; but you will find myriads of others who do not share it withme. You will meet a great many who are interested in the subject ofcommunication with the world they have left. You will, of course, excuseme when I say that I consider such endeavours not worth talking about. "

"Do you know any one who is interested in that sort of thing? and canyou give me an introduction to him?"

"Oh! for that matter, " said Ferris, "you have had an introduction to oneof the most enthusiastic investigators of the subject. I refer to Mr. John Speed, late of Chicago. "

"Ah!" said Brenton, rather dubiously. "I must confess that I wasnot very favourably impressed with Mr. Speed. Probably I did him aninjustice. "

"You certainly did, " said Ferris. "You will find Speed a man well worthknowing, even if he does waste himself on such futile projects as ascheme for communicating with a community so evanescent as that ofChicago. You will like Speed better the more you know him. He really isvery philanthropic, and has Sommers on his hands just now. From what hesaid after you left Venice, I imagine he does not entertain the samefeeling toward you as you do toward him. I would see Speed if I wereyou. "

"I will think about it, " said Brenton, as they separated. 

To know that a man thinks well of a person is no detriment to furtheracquaintance with that man, even if the first impressions have not beenfavourable; and after Ferris told Brenton that Speed had thought well ofhim, Brenton found less difficulty in seeking the Chicago enthusiast. 

"I have been in a good deal of trouble, " Brenton said to Speed, "andhave been talking to Ferris about it. I regret to say that he gave mevery little encouragement, and did not seem at all to appreciate myfeelings in the matter. "

"Oh, you mustn't mind Ferris, " said Speed. "He is a first-rate fellow, but he is as cold and unsympathetic as--well, suppose we say as anoyster. His great hobby is non-intercourse with the world we have left. Now, in that I don't agree with him, and there are thousands who don'tagree with him. I admit that there are cases where a man is more unhappyif he frequents the old world than he would be if he left it alone. Butthen there are other cases where just the reverse is true. Take my ownexperience, for example; I take a peculiar pleasure in rambling aroundChicago. I admit that it is a grievance to me, as an old newspaper man, to see the number of scoops I could have on my esteemed contemporaries, but--"

"Scoop? What is that?" asked Brenton, mystified. 

"Why, a scoop is a beat, you know. "

"Yes, but I don't know. What is a beat?"

"A beat or a scoop, my dear fellow, is the getting of a piece of newsthat your contemporary does not obtain. You never were in the newspaperbusiness? Well, sir, you missed it. Greatest business in the world. Youknow everything that is going on long before anybody else does, and theway you can reward your friends and jump with both feet on your enemiesis one of the delights of existence down there. "

"Well, what I wanted to ask you was this, " said Brenton. "You have madea speciality of finding out whether there could be any communicationbetween one of us, for instance, and one who is an inhabitant of theother world. Is such communication possible?"

"I have certainly devoted some time to it, but I can't say that mysuccess has been flattering. My efforts have been mostly in the line ofnews. I have come on some startling information which my facilities heregave me access to, and I confess I have tried my best to put some of theboys on to it. But there is a link loose somewhere. Now, what is yourtrouble? Do you want to get a message to anybody?"

"My trouble is this, " said Brenton, briefly, "I am here because a fewdays ago I was poisoned. "

"George Washington!" cried the other, "you don't say so! Have thenewspapers got on to the fact?"

"I regret to say that they have. "

"What an item that would have been if one paper had got hold of it andthe others hadn't! I suppose they all got on to it at the same time?"

"About that, " said Brenton, "I don't know, and I must confess that I donot care very much. But here is the trouble--my wife has been arrestedfor my murder, and she is as innocent as I am. "

"Sure of that?"

"_Sure_ of it?" cried the other indignantly. "Of course I am sure ofit. "

"Then who is the guilty person?"

"Ah, that, " said Brenton, "I do not yet know. "

"Then how can you be sure she is not guilty?"

"If you talk like that, " exclaimed Brenton, "I have nothing more tosay. "

"Now, don't get offended, I beg of you. I am merely looking at this froma newspaper standpoint, you know. You must remember it is not youwho will decide the matter, but a jury of your very stupidfellow-countrymen. Now, you can never tell what a jury _will_ do, exceptthat it will do something idiotic. Therefore, it seems to me that thevery first step to be taken is to find out who the guilty party is. Don't you see the force of that?"

"Yes, I do. "

"Very well, then. Now, what were the circumstances of this crime? whowas to profit by your death?"

Brenton winced at this. 

"I see how it is, " said the other, "and I understand why you don'tanswer. Now--you'll excuse me if I am frank--your wife was the one whobenefited most by your death, was she not?"

"No, " cried the other indignantly, "she was not the one. That is whatthe lawyers said. Why in the world should she want to poison me, whenshe had all my wealth at her command as it was?"

"Yes, that's a strong point, " said Speed. "You were a reasonably goodhusband, I suppose? Rather generous with the cash?"

"Generous?" cried the other. "My wife always had everything she wanted. "

"Ah, well, there was no--you'll excuse me, I am sure--no former lover inthe case, was there?"

Again Brenton winced, and he thought of Roland sitting beside his wifewith her hand in his. 

"I see, " said Speed; "you needn't answer. Now what were thecircumstances, again?"

"They were these: At a dinner which I gave, where some twenty ortwenty-five of my friends were assembled, poison, it appears, was putinto my cup of coffee. That is all I know of it. "

"Who poured out that cup of coffee?"

"My wife did. "

"Ah! Now, I don't for a moment say she is guilty, remember; but you mustadmit that, to a stupid jury, the case _might_ look rather bad againsther. "

"Well, granted that it does, there is all the more need that I shouldcome to her assistance if possible. "

"Certainly, certainly!" said Speed. "Now, I'll tell you what we haveto do. We must get, if possible, one of the very brightest Chicagoreporters on the track of this thing, and we have to get him on thetrack of it early. Come with me to Chicago. We will try an experiment, and I am sure you will lend your mind entirely to the effort. We mustact in conjunction in this affair, and you are just the man I've beenwanting, some one who is earnest and who has something at stake in thematter. We may fail entirely, but I think it's worth the trying. Willyou come?"

"Certainly, " said Brenton; "and I cannot tell you how much I appreciateyour interest and sympathy. "

Arriving at a brown stone building on the corner of two of the principalstreets in Chicago, Brenton and Speed ascended quickly to one of the topfloors. It was nearly midnight, and two upper stories of the huge darkbuilding were brilliantly lighted, as was shown on the outside by thelong rows of glittering windows. They entered a room where a man wasseated at a table, with coat and vest thrown off, and his hat set wellback on his head. Cold as it was outside, it was warm in this man'sroom, and the room was blue with smoke. A black corn-cob pipe was in histeeth, and the man was writing away as if for dear life, on sheets ofcoarse white copy paper, stopping now and then to fill up his pipe or torelight it after it had gone out. 

"There, " said Speed, waving his hand towards the writer with a certainair of proprietory pride, "there sits one of the very cleverest men onthe Chicago press. That fellow, sir, is gifted with a nose for newswhich has no equal in America. He will ferret out a case that he oncestarts on with an unerringness that would charm you. Yes, sir, I got himhis present situation on this paper, and I can tell you it was a goodone. "

"He must have been a warm friend of yours?" said Brenton, indifferently, as if he did not take much interest in the eulogy. 

"Quite the contrary, " said Speed. "He was a warm enemy, made it mightywarm for _me_ sometimes. He was on an opposition paper, but I tell you, although I was no chicken in newspaper business, that man would scoopthe daylight out of me any time he tried. So, to get rid of opposition, I got the managing editor to appoint him to a place on our paper; andI tell you, he has never regretted it. Yes, sir, there sits GeorgeStratton, a man who knows his business. Now, " he said, "let usconcentrate our attention on him. First let us see whether, by puttingour whole minds to it, we can make any impression on _his_ mindwhatever. You see how busily he is engaged. He is thoroughly absorbed inhis work. That is George all over. Whatever his assignment is, Georgethrows himself right into it, and thinks of nothing else until it isfinished. _Now_ then. "

In that dingy, well-lighted room George Stratton sat busily pencillingout the lines that were to appear in next morning's paper. He wasevidently very much engrossed in his task, as Speed had said. If hehad looked about him, which he did not, he would have said that he wasentirely alone. All at once his attention seemed to waver, and he passedhis hand over his brow, while perplexity came into his face. Then henoticed that his pipe was out, and, knocking the ashes from it byrapping the bowl on the side of the table, he filled it with anabsent-mindedness unusual with him. Again he turned to his writing, andagain he passed his hand over his brow. Suddenly, without any apparentcause, he looked first to the right and then to the left of him. Oncemore he tried to write, but, noticing his pipe was out, he struckanother match and nervously puffed away, until clouds of blue smoke rosearound him. There was a look of annoyance and perplexity in his face ashe bent resolutely to his writing. The door opened, and a man appearedon the threshold. 

"Anything more about the convention, George?" he said. 

"Yes; I am just finishing this. Sort of pen pictures, you know. "

"Perhaps you can let me have what you have done. I'll fix it up. "

"All right, " said Stratton, bunching up the manuscript in front of him, and handing it to the city editor. 

That functionary looked at the number of pages, and then at the writer. 

"Much more of this, George?" he said. "We'll be a little short of roomin the morning, you know. "

"Well, " said the other, sitting back in his chair, "it is pretty goodstuff that. Folks always like the pen pictures of men engaged in theskirmish better than the reports of what most of them say. "

"Yes, " said the city editor, "that's so. "

"Still, " said Stratton, "we could cut it off at the last page. Just letme see the last two pages, will you?"

These were handed to him, and, running his eye through them, he drew hisknife across one of the pages, and put at the bottom the cabalistic markwhich indicated the end of the copy. 

"There! I think I will let it go at that. Old Rickenbeck don't amount tomuch, anyhow. We'll let him go. "

"All right, " said the city editor. "I think we won't want anything moreto-night. "

[Illustration: "She's pretty as a picture. "]

Stratton put his hands behind his head, with his fingers interlaced, andleaned back in his chair, placing his heels upon the table before him. A thought-reader, looking at his face, could almost have followed thetheme that occupied his mind. Suddenly bringing his feet down with acrash to the floor, he rose and went into the city editor's room. 

"See here, " he said. "Have you looked into that Cincinnati case at all?"

"What Cincinnati case?" asked the local editor, looking up. 

"Why, that woman who is up for poisoning her husband. "

"Oh yes; we had something of it in the despatches this morning. It'srather out of the local line, you know. "

"Yes, I know it is. But it isn't out of the paper's line. I tell youthat case is going to make a sensation. She's pretty as a picture. Beenmarried only six months, and it seems to be a dead sure thing thatshe poisoned her husband. That trial's going to make racy reading, especially if they bring in a verdict of guilty. "

The city editor looked interested. 

"Want to go down there, George?"

"Well, do you know, I think it'll pay. "

"Let me see, this is the last day of the convention, isn't it? And Clarkcomes back from his vacation to-morrow. Well, if you think it's worthit, take a trip down there, and look the ground over, and give us aspecial article that we can use on the first day of the trial. "

"I'll do it, " said George. 

 * * * * *

Speed looked at Brenton. 

"What would old Ferris say _now_, eh?"

CHAPTER VI. 

Next morning George Stratton was on the railway train speeding towardsCincinnati. As he handed to the conductor his mileage book, he did notsay to him, lightly transposing the old couplet--

 "Here, railroad man, take thrice thy fee, For spirits twain do ride with me. "

George Stratton was a practical man, and knew nothing of spirits, exceptthose which were in a small flask in his natty little valise. 

When he reached Cincinnati, he made straight for the residence of thesheriff. He felt that his first duty was to become friends with such animportant official. Besides this, he wished to have an interview withthe prisoner. He had arranged in his mind, on the way there, just how hewould write a preliminary article that would whet the appetite of thereaders of the Chicago _Argus_ for any further developments that mightoccur during and after the trial. He would write the whole thing in theform of a story. 

[Illustration: "Raising the veil. "]

First, there would be a sketch of the life of Mrs. Brenton and herhusband. This would be number one, and above it would be the Romannumeral I. Under the heading II. Would be a history of the crime. UnderIII. What had occurred afterwards--the incidents that had led suspiciontowards the unfortunate woman, and that sort of thing. Under the numeralIV. Would be his interview with the prisoner, if he were fortunateenough to get one. Under V. He would give the general opinion ofCincinnati on the crime, and on the guilt or innocence of Mrs. Brenton. This article he already saw in his mind's eye occupying nearly half apage of the _Argus_. All would be in leaded type, and written in a styleand manner that would attract attention, for he felt that he wasfirst on the ground, and would not have the usual rush in preparinghis copy which had been the bane of his life. It would give the_Argus_ practically the lead in this case, which he was convincedwould become one of national importance. 

The sheriff received him courteously, and, looking at the card hepresented, saw the name Chicago _Argus_ in the corner. Then he stoodvisibly on his guard--an attitude assumed by all wise officials whenthey find themselves brought face to face with a newspaper man; forthey know, however carefully an article may be prepared, it will likelycontain some unfortunate overlooked phrase which may have a damagingeffect in a future political campaign. 

"I wanted to see you, " began Stratton, coming straight to the point, "inreference to the Brenton murder. "

"I may say at once, " replied the sheriff, "that if you wish an interviewwith the prisoner, it is utterly impossible, because her lawyers, Benhamand Brown, have positively forbidden her to see a newspaper man. "

"That shows, " said Stratton, "they are wise men who understand theirbusiness. Nevertheless, I wish to have an interview with Mrs. Brenton. But what I wanted to say to you is this: I believe the case will be verymuch talked about, and that before many weeks are over. Of course youknow the standing the _Argus_ has in newspaper circles. What it sayswill have an influence, even over the Cincinnati press. I think you willadmit that. Now a great many newspaper men consider an official theirnatural enemy. I do not; at least, I do not until I am forced to. Anyreference that I may make to you I am more than willing to submit to youbefore it goes to Chicago. I will give you my word, if you want it, thatnothing will be said referring to your official position, or to yourselfpersonally, that you do not see before it appears in print. Of courseyou will be up for re-election. I never met a sheriff who wasn't. "

The sheriff smiled at this, and did not deny it. 

"Very well. Now, I may tell you my belief is that this case is goingto have a powerful influence on your re-election. Here is a young andpretty woman who is to be tried for a terrible crime. Whether she isguilty or innocent, public sympathy is going to be with her. If I werein your place, I would prefer to be known as her friend rather than asher enemy. "

"My dear sir, " said the sheriff, "my official position puts me in theattitude of neither friend nor enemy of the unfortunate woman. I havesimply a certain duty to do, and that duty I intend to perform. "

"Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the newspaper man, jauntily. "I, forone, am not going to ask you to take a step outside your duties; but anofficial may do his duty, and yet, at the same time, do a friendly actfor a newspaper man, or even for a prisoner. In the language of the oldchestnut, 'If you don't help me, don't help the bear. ' That's all Iask. "

"You maybe sure, Mr. Stratton, that anything I can do to help you Ishall be glad to do; and now let me give you a hint. If you want to seeMrs. Brenton, the best thing is to get permission from her lawyers. IfI were you I would not see Benham--he's rather a hard nut, Benham is, although you needn't tell him I said so. You get on the right side ofBrown. Brown has some political aspirations himself, and he does notwant to offend a man on so powerful a paper as the _Argus_, even if itis not a Cincinnati paper. Now, if you make him the same offer you havemade to me, I think it will be all right. If he sees your copy before itgoes into print, and if you keep your word with him that nothing willappear that he does _not_ see, I think you will succeed in getting aninterview with Mrs. Brenton. If you bring me a note from Brown, I shallbe very glad to allow you to see her. "

Stratton thanked the sheriff for his hint. He took down in his note-bookthe address of the lawyers, and the name especially of Mr. Brown. Thetwo men shook hands, and Stratton felt that they understood each other. 

When Mr. Stratton was ushered into the private office of Brown, andhanded that gentleman his card, he noticed the lawyer perceptibly freezeover. 

"Ahem, " said the legal gentleman; "you will excuse me if I say that mytime is rather precious. Did you wish to see me professionally?"

"Yes, " replied Stratton, "that is, from a newspaper standpoint of theprofession. "

"Ah, " said the other, "in reference to what?"

"To the Brenton case. "

"Well, my dear sir, I have had, very reluctantly, to refuse informationthat I would have been happy to give, if I could, to our own newspapermen; and so I may say to you at once that I scarcely think it willbe possible for me to be of any service to an outside paper like the_Argus_"

"Local newspaper men, " said Stratton, "represent local fame. Thatyou already possess. I represent national fame, which, if you willexcuse my saying so, you do not yet possess. The fact that I am inCincinnati to-day, instead of in Chicago, shows what we Chicago peoplethink of the Cincinnati case. I believe, and the _Argus_ believes, thatthis case is going to be one of national importance. Now, let me ask youone question. Will you state frankly what your objection is to havinga newspaper man, for instance, interview Mrs. Brenton, or get anyinformation relating to this case from her or others whom you have thepower of controlling?"

"I shall answer that question, " said Brown, "as frankly as you putit. You are a man of the world, and know, of course, that we are allselfish, and in business matters look entirely after our own interests. My interest in this case is to defend my client. Your interest inthis case is to make a sensational article. You want to get facts ifpossible, but, in any event, you want to write up a readable column ortwo for your paper. Now, if I allowed you to see Mrs. Brenton, she mightsay something to you, and you might publish it, that would not onlyendanger her chances, but would seriously embarrass us, as her lawyers, in our defence of the case. "

"You have stated the objection very plainly and forcibly, " saidStratton, with a look of admiration, as if the powerful arguments ofthe lawyer had had a great effect on him. "Now, if I understand yourargument, it simply amounts to this, that you would have no objection tomy interviewing Mrs. Brenton if you have the privilege of editing thecopy. In other words, if nothing were printed but what you approveof, you would not have the slightest hesitancy about allowing me thatinterview. "

"No, I don't know that I would, " admitted the lawyer. 

"Very well, then. Here is my proposition to you: I am here to look afterthe interests of our paper in this particular case. The _Argus_ isprobably going to be the first paper outside of Cincinnati that willdevote a large amount of space to the Brenton trial, in addition to whatis received from the Associated Press dispatches. Now you can give me agreat many facilities in this matter if you care to do so, and in returnI am perfectly willing to submit to you every line of copy that concernsyou or your client before it is sent, and I give you my word of honourthat nothing shall appear but what you have seen and approved of. Ifyou want to cut out something that I think is vitally important, then Ishall tell you frankly that I intend to print it, but will modify it asmuch as I possibly can to suit your views. "

"I see, " said the lawyer. "In other words, as you have just remarked, I am to give you special facilities in this matter, and then, when youfind out some fact which I wish kept secret, and which you have obtainedbecause of the facilities I have given to you, you will quite franklytell me that it must go in, and then, of course, I shall be helplessexcept to debar you from any further facilities, as you call them. No, sir, I do not care to make any such bargain. "

"Well, suppose I strike out that clause of agreement, and say to youthat I will send nothing but what you approve of, would you then writeme a note to the sheriff and allow me to see the prisoner?"

"I am sorry to say"--the lawyer hesitated for a moment, and glanced atthe card, then added--"Mr. Stratton, that I do not see my way clear togranting your request. "

"I think, " said Stratton, rising, "that you are doing yourself aninjustice. You are refusing--I may as well tell you first as last--whatis a great privilege. Now, you have had some experience in yourbusiness, and I have had some experience in mine, and I beg to informyou that men who are much more prominent in the history of their countrythan any one I can at present think of in Cincinnati, have tried to balkme in the pursuit of my business, and have failed. "

"In that matter, of course, " said Brown, "I must take my chances. Idon't see the use of prolonging this interview. As you have been sofrank as to--I won't say threaten, perhaps warn is the better word--asyou have been so good as to warn me, I may, before we part, just give_you_ a word of caution. Of course we, in Cincinnati, are perfectlywilling to admit that Chicago people are the smartest on earth, but Imay say that if you print a word in your paper which is untrue and whichis damaging to our side of the case, or if you use any methods thatare unlawful in obtaining the information you so much desire, you willcertainly get your paper into trouble, and you will run some littlepersonal risk yourself. "

"Well, as you remarked a moment ago, Mr. Brown, I shall have to take thechances of that. I am here to get the news, and if I don't succeed itwill be the first time in my life. "

"Very well, sir, " said the lawyer. "I wish you good evening. "

"Just one thing more, " said the newspaper man, "before I leave you. "

"My dear sir, " said the lawyer, impatiently, "I am very busy. I'vealready given you a liberal share of my time. I must request that thisinterview end at once. "

"I thought, " said Mr. Stratton, calmly, "that perhaps you might beinterested in the first article that I am going to write. I shall devoteone column in the _Argus_ of the day after to-morrow to your defence ofthe case, and whether your theory of defence is a tenable one or not. "

Mr. Brown pushed back his chair and looked earnestly at the young man. That individual was imperturbably pulling on his gloves, and at themoment was buttoning one of them. 

"Our _defence_!" cried the lawyer. "What do you know of our defence?"

"My dear sir, " said Stratton, "I know _all_ about it. "

"Sir, that is impossible. Nobody knows what our defence is to be exceptMr. Benham and myself. "

"And Mr. Stratton, of the Chicago _Argus_, " replied the young man, as hebuttoned his coat. 

"May I ask, then, what the defence is?"

"Certainly, " answered the Chicago man. "Your defence is that Mr. Brentonwas insane, and that he committed suicide. "

Even Mr. Brown's habitual self-control, acquired by long years oftraining in keeping his feelings out of sight, for the moment desertedhim. He drew his breath sharply, and cast a piercing glance at the youngman before him, who was critically watching the lawyer's countenance, although he appeared to be entirely absorbed in buttoning his overcoat. Then Mr. Brown gave a short, dry laugh. 

"I have met a bluff before, " he said carelessly; "but I should like toknow what makes you think that such is our defence?"

"_Think_!" cried the young man. "I don't think at all; I _know_ it. "

"How do you know it?"

"Well, for one thing, I know it by your own actions a moment ago. Whatfirst gave me an inkling of your defence was that book which is onyour table. It is Forbes Winslow on the mind and the brain; a veryinteresting book, Mr. Brown, _very_ interesting indeed. It treats ofsuicide, and the causes and conditions of the brain that will lead upto it. It is a very good book, indeed, to study in such a case. Goodevening, Mr. Brown. I am sorry that we cannot co-operate in thismatter. "

Stratton turned and walked toward the door, while the lawyer gazed afterhim with a look of helpless astonishment on his face. As Stratton placedhis hand on the door knob, the lawyer seemed to wake up as from a dream. 

"Stop!" he cried; "I will give you a letter that will admit you to Mrs. Brenton. "

CHAPTER VII. 

"There!" said Speed to Brenton, triumphantly, "what do you think of_that_? Didn't I say George Stratton was the brightest newspaper man inChicago? I tell you, his getting that letter from old Brown was one ofthe cleverest bits of diplomacy I ever saw. There you had quickness ofperception, and nerve. All the time he was talking to old Brown he wasjust taking that man's measure. See how coolly he acted while he wasdrawing on his gloves and buttoning his coat as if ready to leave. Flungthat at Brown all of a sudden as quiet as if he was saying nothing atall unusual, and all the time watching Brown out of the tail of his eye. Well, sir, I must admit, that although I have known George Stratton foryears, I thought he was dished by that Cincinnati lawyer. I thought thatGeorge was just gracefully covering up his defeat, and there he upsetold Brown's apple-cart in the twinkling of an eye. Now, you see theeffect of all this. Brown has practically admitted to him what the lineof defence is. Stratton won't publish it, of course; he has promised notto, but you see he can hold that over Brown's head, and get everythinghe wants unless they change their defence. "

"Yes, " remarked Brenton, slowly, "he seems to be a very sharp newspaperman indeed; but I don't like the idea of his going to interview mywife. "

"Why, what is there wrong about that?"

"Well, there is this wrong about it--that she in her depression may saysomething that will tell against her. "

"Even if she does, what of it? Isn't the lawyer going to see the letterbefore it is sent to the paper?"

"I am not so sure about that. Do you think Stratton will show thearticle to Brown if he gets what you call a scoop or a beat?"

"Why, of course he will, " answered Speed, indignantly; "hasn't he givenhim his word that he will?"

"Yes, I know he has, " said Brenton, dubiously; "but he is a newspaperman. "

"Certainly he is, " answered Speed, with strong emphasis; "that is thereason he will keep his word. "

"I hope so, I hope so; but I must admit that the more I know younewspaper men, the more I see the great temptation you are under topreserve if possible the sensational features of an article. "

"I'll bet you a drink--no, we can't do that, " corrected Speed; "but youshall see that, if Brown acts square with Stratton, he will keep hisword to the very letter with Brown. There is no use in our talking aboutthe matter here. Let us follow Stratton, and see what comes of theinterview. "

"I think I prefer to go alone, " said Brenton, coldly. 

"Oh, as you like, as you like, " answered the other, shortly. "I thoughtyou wanted my help in this affair; but if you don't, I am sure I shan'tintrude. "

"That's all right, " said Brenton; "come along. By the way, Speed, whatdo you think of that line of defence?"

"Well, I don't know enough of the circumstances of the case to know whatto think of it. It seems to me rather a good line. "

"It can't be a good line when it is not true. It is certain to breakdown. "

"That's so, " said Speed; "but I'll bet you four dollars and a half thatthey'll prove you a raving maniac before they are through with you. They'll show very likely that you tried to poison yourself two or threetimes; bring on a dozen of your friends to prove that they knew all yourlife you were insane. "

"Do you think they will?" asked Brenton, uneasily. 

"Think it? Why, I am sure of it. You'll go down to posterity as one ofthe most complete lunatics that ever, lived in Cincinnati. Oh, therewon't be anything left of you when _they_ get through with you. "

Meanwhile, Stratton was making his way to the residence of the sheriff. 

"Ah, " said that official, when they met, "you got your letter, did you?Well, I thought you would. "

"If you had heard the conversation between my estimable friend Mr. Brownand myself, up to the very last moment, you wouldn't have thought it. "

"Well, Brown is generally very courteous towards newspaper men, andthat's one reason you see his name in the papers a great deal. "

"If I were a Cincinnati newspaper man, I can assure you that his namewouldn't appear very much in the columns of my paper. "

"I am sorry to hear you say that. I thought Brown was very popular withthe newspaper men. You got the letter, though, did you?"

"Yes; I got it. Here it is. Read it. "

The sheriff scanned the brief note over, and put it in his pocket. 

"Just take a chair for a moment, will you, and I will see if Mrs. Brenton is ready to receive you. "

[Illustration: Jane. ]

Stratton seated himself, and, pulling a paper from his pocket, wasbusily reading when the sheriff again entered. 

"I am sorry to say, " he began, "after you have had all this trouble, that Mrs. Brenton positively refuses to see you. You know I cannot_compel_ a prisoner to meet any one. You understand that, of course. "

"Perfectly, " said Stratton, thinking for a moment. "See here, sheriff, I have simply _got_ to have a talk with that woman. Now, can't you tellher I knew her husband, or something of that sort? I'll make it allright when I see her. "

 * * * * *

"The scoundrel!" said Brenton to Speed, as Stratton made this remark. 

"My dear sir, " said Speed, "don't you see he is just the man we want?This is not the time to be particular. "

"Yes, but think of the treachery and meanness of telling a poorunfortunate woman that he was acquainted with her husband, who is only afew days dead. "

"Now, see here, " said Speed, "if you are going to look on matters inthis way you will be a hindrance and not a help in the affair. Don't youappreciate the situation? Why, Mrs. Brenton's own lawyers, as you havesaid, think her guilty. What, then, can they learn by talking with her, or what good can they do her with their minds already prejudiced againsther? Don't you see that?"

Brenton made no answer to this, but it was evident he was very ill atease. 

 * * * * *

"Did you know her husband?" asked the sheriff. 

"No, to tell you the truth, I never heard of him before. But I must seethis lady, both for my good and hers, and I am not going to let a littlething like that stand between us. Won't you tell her that I have comewith a letter from her own lawyers? Just show her the letter, and saythat I will take up but very little of her time. I am sorry to ask thismuch of you, but you see how I am placed. "

"Oh, that's all right, " said the sheriff, good-naturedly; "I shall bevery glad to do what you wish, " and with that he once more disappeared. 

The sheriff stayed away longer this time, and Stratton paced the roomimpatiently. Finally, the official returned, and said--

"Mrs. Brenton has consented to see you. Come this way, please. Youwill excuse me, I know, " continued the sheriff, as they walked alongtogether, "but it is part of my duty to remain in the room while youare talking with Mrs. Brenton. "

"Certainly, certainly, " said Stratton; "I understand that. "

"Very well; then, if I may make a suggestion, I would say this: youshould be prepared to ask just what you want to know, and do it all asspeedily as possible, for really Mrs. Brenton is in a condition ofnervous exhaustion that renders it almost cruel to put her through anyrigid cross-examination. "

"I understand that also, " said Stratton; "but you must rememberthat she has a very much harder trial to undergo in the future. I amexceedingly anxious to get at the truth of this thing, and so, if itseems to you that I am asking a lot of very unnecessary questions, Ihope you will not interfere with me as long as Mrs. Brenton consents toanswer. "

"I shall not interfere at all, " said the sheriff; "I only wanted tocaution you, for the lady may break down at any moment. If you canmarshal your questions so that the most important ones come first, Ithink it will be wise. I presume you have them pretty well arranged inyour own mind?"

"Well, I can't say that I have; you see, I am entirely in the dark. Igot no help whatever from the lawyers, and from what I know of theirdefence I am thoroughly convinced that they are on the wrong track. "

"What! did Brown say anything about the defence? That is not like hisusual caution. "

"He didn't intend to, " answered Stratton; "but I found out all I wantedto know, nevertheless. You see, I shall have to ask what appears to be alot of rambling, inconsequential questions because you can never tell ina case like this when you may get the key to the whole mystery. "

"Well, here we are, " said the sheriff, as he knocked at a door, and thenpushed it open. 

From the moment George Stratton saw Mrs. Brenton his interest in thecase ceased to be purely journalistic. 

Mrs. Brenton was standing near the window, and she appeared to be verycalm and collected, but her fingers twitched nervously, clasping andunclasping each other. Her modest dress of black was certainly a verybecoming one. 

George thought he had never seen a woman so beautiful. 

As she was standing up, she evidently intended the interview to be ashort one. 

"Madam, " said Stratton, "I am very sorry indeed to trouble you; but Ihave taken a great interest in the solution of this mystery, and I haveyour lawyers' permission to visit you. I assure you, anything you saywill be submitted to them, so that there will be no danger of your casebeing prejudiced by any statements made. "

"I am not afraid, " said Mrs. Brenton, "that the truth will injure orprejudice my case. "

"I am sure of that, " answered the newspaper man; and then, knowing thatshe would not sit down if he asked her to, he continued diplomatically, "Madam, will you permit me to sit down? I wish to write out my notes ascarefully as possible. Accuracy is my strong point. "

"Certainly, " said Mrs. Brenton; and, seeing that it was not probable theinterview would be a short one, she seated herself by the window, whilethe sheriff took a chair in the corner, and drew a newspaper from hispocket. 

"Now, madam, " said the special, "a great number of the questions I askyou may seem trivial, but as I said to the sheriff a moment ago, someword of yours that appears to you entirely unconnected with the case maygive me a clue which will be exceedingly valuable. You will, therefore, I am sure, pardon me if some of the questions I ask you appearirrelevant. "

Mrs. Brenton bowed her head, but said nothing. 

"Were your husband's business affairs in good condition at the time ofhis death?"

"As far as I know they were. "

"Did you ever see anything in your husband's actions that would lead youto think him a man who might have contemplated suicide?"

Mrs. Brenton looked up with wide-open eyes. 

"Certainly not, " she said. 

"Had he ever spoken to you on the subject of suicide?"

"I do not remember that he ever did. "

"Was he ever queer in his actions? In short, did you ever noticeanything about him that would lead you to doubt his sanity? I am sorryif questions I ask you seem painful, but I have reasons for wishing tobe certain on this point. "

"No, " said Mrs. Brenton; "he was perfectly sane. No man could have beenmore so. I am certain that he never thought of committing suicide. "

"Why are you so certain on that point?"

"I do not know why. I only know I am positive of it. "

"Do you know if he had any enemy who might wish his death?"

"I doubt if he had an enemy in the world. I do not know of any. "

"Have you ever heard him speak of anybody in a spirit of enmity?"

"Never. He was not a man who bore enmity against people. Persons whom hedid not like he avoided. "

"The poison, it is said, was put into his cup of coffee. Do you happento know, " said Stratton, turning to the sheriff, "how they came to thatconclusion?"

"No, I do not, " answered the sheriff. "In fact, I don't see any reasonwhy they should think so. "

"Was morphia found in the coffee cup afterwards?"

"No; at the time of the inquest all the things had been cleared away. Ithink it was merely presumed that the morphine was put into his coffee. "

"Who poured out the coffee he drank that night?"

"I did, " answered his wife. 

"You were at one end of the table and he at the other, I suppose?"

"Yes. "

"How did the coffee cup reach him?"

"I gave it to the servant, and she placed it before him. "

"It passed through no other hands, then?"

"No. "

"Who was the servant?"

Mrs. Brenton pondered for a moment. 

"I really know very little about her. She had been in our house for acouple of weeks only. "

"What was her name?"

"Jane Morton, I think. "

"Where is she now, do you know?"

"I do not know. "

"She appeared at the inquest, of course?" said Stratton, turning to thesheriff. 

"I think she did, " was the answer. "I am not sure. "

He marked her name down in the note-book. 

"How many people were there at the dinner?"

"Including my husband and myself, there were twenty-six. "

"Could you give me the name of each of them?"

"Yes, I think so. "

She repeated the names, which he took down, with certain notes andcomments on each. 

"Who sat next your husband at the head of the table?"

"Miss Walker was at his right hand, Mr. Roland at his left. "

"Now, forgive me if I ask you if you have ever had any trouble with yourhusband?"

"Never. "

"Never had any quarrel?"

Mrs. Brenton hesitated for a moment. 

"No, I don't think we ever had what could be called a quarrel. "

"You had no disagreement shortly before the dinner?"

Again Mrs. Brenton hesitated. 

"I can hardly call it a disagreement, " she said. "We had a littlediscussion about some of the guests who were to be invited. "

"Did he object to any that were there?"

"There was a gentleman there whom he did not particularly like, I think, but he made no objection to his coming; in fact, he seemed to feel thatI might imagine he had an objection from a little discussion we hadabout inviting him; and afterwards, as if to make up for that, he placedthis guest at his left hand. "

Stratton quickly glanced up the page of his notebook, and marked alittle cross before the name of Stephen Roland. 

"You had another disagreement with him before, if I might term it so, had you not?"

Mrs. Brenton looked at him surprised. 

"What makes you think so?" she said. 

"Because you hesitated when I spoke of it. "

"Well, we had what you might call a disagreement once at Lucerne, Switzerland. "

"Will you tell me what it was about?"

"I would rather not. "

"Will you tell me this--was it about a gentleman?"

"Yes, " said Mrs. Brenton. 

"Was your husband of a jealous disposition?"

"Ordinarily I do not think he was. It seemed to me at the time that hewas a little unjust--that's all. "

"Was the gentleman in Lucerne?"

"Oh no!"

"In Cincinnati?"

"Yes. "

"Was his name Stephen Roland?"

Mrs. Brenton again glanced quickly at the newspaper man, and seemedabout to say something, but, checking herself, she simply answered--

"Yes. "

Then she leaned back in the armchair and sighed. 

"I am very tired, " she said. "If it is not absolutely necessary, Iprefer not to continue this conversation. "

Stratton immediately rose. 

"Madam, " he said, "I am very much obliged to you for the trouble youhave taken to answer my questions, which I am afraid must have seemedimpertinent to you, but I assure you that I did not intend them to beso. Now, madam, I would like very much to get a promise from you. I wishthat you would promise to see me if I call again, and I, on my part, assure you that unless I have something particularly important to tellyou, or to ask, I shall not intrude upon you. "

"I shall be pleased to see you at any time, sir. "

When the sheriff and the newspaper man reached the other room, theformer said--

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think it is an interesting case, " was the answer. 

"Or, to put it in other words, you think Mrs. Brenton a very interestinglady. "

"Officially, sir, you have exactly stated my opinion. "

"And I suppose, poor woman, she will furnish an interesting article forthe paper?"

"Hang the paper!" said Stratton, with more than his usual vim. 

The sheriff laughed. Then he said--

"I confess that to me it seems a very perplexing affair all through. Have you got any light on the subject?"

"My dear sir, I will tell you three important things. First, Mrs. Brenton is innocent. Second, her lawyers are taking the wrong line ofdefence. Third, " tapping his breast-pocket, "I have the name of themurderer in my note-book. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

"Now, " said John Speed to William Brenton, "we have got Stratton fairlystarted on the track, and I believe that he will ferret out the truthin this matter. But, meanwhile, we must not be idle. You must rememberthat, with all our facilities for discovery, we really know nothingof the murderer ourselves. I propose we set about this thing just assystematically as Stratton will. The chances are that we shall penetratethe mystery of the whole affair very much quicker than he. As I toldyou before, I am something of a newspaper man myself; and if, with thefacilities of getting into any room in any house, in any city and in anycountry, and being with a suspected criminal night and day when he neverimagines any one is near him--if with all those advantages I cannotdiscover the real author of that crime before George Stratton does, thenI'll never admit that I came from Chicago, or belonged to a newspaper. "

"Whom do you think Stratton suspects of the crime? He told the sheriff, "said Brenton, "that he had the name in his pocket-book. "

"I don't know, " said Speed, "but I have my suspicions. You see, he hasthe names of all the guests at your banquet in that pocket-book of his;but the name of Stephen Roland he has marked with two crosses. The nameof the servant he has marked with one cross. Now, I suspect that hebelieves Stephen Roland committed the crime. You know Roland; what doyou think of him?"

"I think he is quite capable of it, " answered Brenton, with a frown. 

"Still, you are prejudiced against the man, " put in Speed, "so yourevidence is hardly impartial. "

"I am not prejudiced against any one, " answered Brenton; "I merely knowthat man. He is a thoroughly despicable, cowardly character. The onlything that makes me think he would not commit a murder, is that he istoo craven to stand the consequences if he were caught. He is a coolvillain, but he is a coward. I do not believe he has the courage tocommit a crime, even if he thought he would benefit by it. "

"Well, there is one thing, Brenton, you can't be accused of flatteringa man, and if it is any consolation for you to know, you may be prettycertain that George Stratton is on his track. "

"I am sure I wish him success, " answered Brenton, gloomily; "if hebrings Roland to the gallows I shall not mourn over it. "

"That's all right, " said Speed; "but now we must be up and doingourselves. Have you anything to propose?"

"No, I have not, except that we might play the detective on Roland. "

"Well, the trouble with that is we would merely be duplicating whatStratton is doing himself. Now, I'll tell you my proposal. Supposingthat we consult with Lecocq. "

"Who is that? The novelist?"

"Novelist? I don't think he has ever written any novels--not that Iremember of. "

"Ah, I didn't know. It seemed to me that I remembered his name inconnection with some novel. "

"Oh, very likely you did. He is the hero of more detective stories thanany other man I know of. He was the great French detective. "

"What, is he dead, then?"

"Dead? Not a bit of it; he's here with us. Oh, I understand what youmean. Yes, from your point of view, he is dead. "

"Where can we find him?"

"Well, I presume, in Paris. He's a first-rate fellow to know, anyhow, and he spends most of his time around his old haunts. In fact, if youwant to be certain to find Lecocq, you will generally get him duringoffice hours in the room he used to frequent while in Paris. "

"Let us go and see him, then. "

 * * * * *

"Monsieur Lecocq, " said Speed, a moment afterwards, "I wish to introduceto you a new-comer, Mr. Brenton, recently of Cincinnati. "

"Ah, my dear Speed, " said the Frenchman, "I am very pleased indeed tomeet any friend of yours. How is the great Chicago, the second Paris, and how is your circulation?--the greatest in the world, I suppose. "

"Well, it is in pretty good order, " said Speed; "we circulated fromChicago to Paris here in a very much shorter time than the journeyusually occupies down below. Now, can you give us a little of your time?Are you busy just now?"

"My dear Speed, I am always busy. I am like the people of the secondParis. I lose no time, but I have always time to speak with my friends. "

"All right, " said Speed. "I am like the people of the second Chicago, generally more intent on pleasure than business; but, nevertheless, Ihave a piece of business for you. "

"The second Chicago?" asked Lecocq. "And where is that, pray?"

"Why, Paris, of course, " said Speed. 

Lecocq laughed. 

"You are incorrigible, you Chicagoans. And what is the piece ofbusiness?"

"It is the old thing, monsieur. A mystery to be unravelled. Mr. Brentonhere wishes to retain you in his case. "

"And what is his case?" was the answer. 

Lecocq was evidently pleased to have a bit of real work given him. 

[Illustration: The detective. ]

Speed briefly recited the facts, Brenton correcting him now and thenon little points where he was wrong. Speed seemed to think these pointsimmaterial, but Lecocq said that attention to trivialities was thewhole secret of the detective business. 

"Ah, " said Lecocq, sorrowfully, "there is no real trouble in elucidatingthat mystery. I hoped it would be something difficult; but, you see, with my experience of the old world, and with the privileges one enjoysin this world, things which might be difficult to one below are veryeasy for us. Now, I shall show you how simple it is. "

"Good gracious!" cried Speed, "you don't mean to say you are going toread it right off the reel, like that, when we have been botheringourselves with it so long, and without success?"

"At the moment, " replied the French detective, "I am not prepared to saywho committed the deed. That is a matter of detail. Now, let us see whatwe know, and arrive, from that, at what we do not know. The one fact, ofwhich we are assured on the statement of two physicians from Cincinnati, is that Mr. Brenton was poisoned. "

"Well, " said Speed, "there are several other facts, too. Another fact isthat Mrs. Brenton is accused of the crime. "

"Ah! my dear sir, " said Lecocq, "that is not pertinent. "

"No, " said Speed, "I agree with you. I call it very impertinent. "

Brenton frowned, at this, and his old dislike to the flippant Chicagoman rose to the surface again. 

The Frenchman continued marking the points on his long forefinger. 

"Now, there are two ways by which that result may have been attained. First, Mr. Brenton may have administered to himself the poison;secondly, the poison may have been administered by some one else. "

"Yes, " said Speed; "and, thirdly, the poison may have been administeredaccidentally--you do not seem to take that into account. "

"I do not take that into account, " calmly replied the Frenchman, "because of its improbability. If there were an accident; if, forinstance, the poison was in the sugar, or in some of the viands served, then others than Mr. Brenton would have been poisoned. The fact that oneman out of twenty-six was poisoned, and the fact that several people areto benefit by his death, point, it seems to me, to murder; but to besure of that, I will ask Mr. Brenton one question. My dear sir, did youadminister this poison to yourself?"

"Certainly not, " answered Brenton. 

"Then we have two facts. First, Mr. Brenton was poisoned; secondly, hewas poisoned by some person who had an interest in his death. Now wewill proceed. When Mr. Brenton sat down to that dinner he was perfectlywell. When he arose from that dinner he was feeling ill. He goes to bed. He sees no one but his wife after he has left the dinner-table, and hetakes nothing between the time he leaves the dinner-table and the momenthe becomes unconscious. Now, that poison must have been administered toMr. Brenton at the dinner-table. Am I not right?"

"Well, you seem to be, " answered Speed. 

"Seem? Why, it is as plain as day. There cannot be any mistake. "

"All right, " said Speed; "go ahead. What next?"

"What next? There were twenty-six people around that table, with twoservants to wait on them, making twenty-eight in all. There weretwenty-six, I think you said, including Mr. Brenton. "

"That is correct. "

"Very well. One of those twenty-seven persons has poisoned Mr. Brenton. Do you follow me?"

"We do, " answered Speed; "we follow you as closely as you have everfollowed a criminal! Go on. "

"Very well, so much is clear. These are all facts, not theories. Now, what is the thing that I should do if I were in Cincinnati? I would findout whether one or more of those guests had anything to gain by thedeath of their host. That done, I would follow the suspected persons. Iwould have my men find out what each of them had done for a month beforethe time of the crime. Whoever committed it made some preparation. Hedid something, too, as you say, in America, to cover up his tracks. Verywell. By the keen detective these actions are easily traced. I shall atonce place twenty-seven of the best men I know on the track of thosetwenty-seven persons. "

"I call that shadowing with a vengeance, " remarked the Chicago man. 

"It will be very easy. The one who has committed the crime is certain, when he is alone in his own room, to say something, or to do something, that will show my detective that he is the criminal. So, gentlemen, ifyou can tell me who those twenty-seven persons are, in three days or aweek from this time I will tell you who gave the poison to Mr. Brenton. "

"You seem very sure of that, " said Speed. 

"Sure of it? It is simply child's play. It is mere waiting. If, forinstance, at the trial Mrs. Brenton is found guilty, and sentenced, theone who is the guilty party is certain to betray himself or herselfas soon as he or she is alone. If it be a man who hopes to marry Mrs. Brenton, he will be overcome with grief at what has happened. He willwring his hands and try to think what can be done to prevent thesentence being carried out. He will argue with himself whether it isbetter to give himself up and tell the truth, and if he is a coward hewill conclude not to do that, but will try to get a pardon, or at leasthave the capital sentence commuted into life imprisonment. He willpossibly be cool and calm in public, but when he enters his own room, when his door is locked, when he believes no one can see him, when hethinks he is alone, then will come his trial. Then his passions andhis emotions will betray him. It is mere child's play, as I tell you, and long before there is a verdict I will give you the name of themurderer. "

"Very well, then, " said Speed, "that is agreed; we will look you up in aweek from now. "

"I should be pained, " said Lecocq, "to put you to that trouble. As soonas I get the report from my men I will communicate with you and letyou know the result. In a few days I shall give you the name of theassassin. "

"Good-bye, then, until I see you again, " answered Speed; and with thishe and Brenton took their departure. 

"He seems to be very sure of himself, " said Brenton. 

[Illustration: Jane Morton. ]

"He will do what he says, you may depend on that. "

The week was not yet up when Monsieur Lecocq met John Speed in Chicago. 

"By the look of satisfaction on your face, " said Mr. Speed, "I imagineyou have succeeded in unravelling the mystery. "

"Ah, " replied the Frenchman; "if I have the appearance of satisfaction, it is indeed misplaced. "

"Then you have not made any discovery?"

"On the contrary, it is all as plain as your big buildings here. Itis not for that reason, but because it is so simple that I should befoolish to feel satisfaction regarding it. "

"Then who is the person?"

"The assassin, " replied the Frenchman, "is one whom no one has seemed tothink of, and yet one on whom suspicion should have been the first tofall. The person who did Monsieur Brenton the honour to poison him isnone other than the servant girl, Jane Morton. "

CHAPTER IX. 

"Jane Morton!" cried Speed; "who is she?"

"She is, as you may remember, the girl who carried the coffee from Mrs. Brenton to monsieur. "

"And are you sure she is the criminal?"

The great detective did not answer; he merely gave an expressive littleFrench gesture, as though the question was not worth commenting upon. 

"Why, what was her motive?" asked Speed. 

For the first time in their acquaintance a shade of perplexity seemed tocome over the enthusiastic face of the volatile Frenchman. 

"You are what you call smart, you Chicago people, " he said, "and youhave in a moment struck the only point on which we are at a loss. "

"My dear sir, " returned Speed, "that is _the_ point in the case. Motiveis the first thing to look for, it seems to me. You said as muchyourself. If you haven't succeeded in finding what motive Jane Mortonhad for poisoning her employer, it appears to me that very little hasbeen accomplished. "

"Ah, you say that before you know the particulars. I am certain we shallfind the motive. What I know now is that Jane Morton is the one who putthe poison in his cup of coffee. "

"It would take a good deal of nerve to do that with twenty-six peoplearound the table. You forget, my dear sir, that she had to pass thewhole length of the table, after taking the cup, before giving it to Mr. Brenton. "

"Half of the people had their backs to her, and the other half, I canassure you, were not looking at her. If the poison was ready, it was avery easy thing to slip it into a cup of coffee. There was ample time todo it, and that is how it was done. "

"May I ask how you arrived at that conclusion?"

"Certainly, certainly, my dear sir. My detectives report that each oneof the twenty-seven people they had to follow were shadowed night andday. But only two of them acted suspiciously. These two were Jane Mortonand Stephen Roland. Stephen Roland's anxiety is accounted for by thefact that he is evidently in love with Mrs. Brenton. But the changein Jane Morton has been something terrible. She is suffering from theseverest pangs of ineffectual remorse. She has not gone out again toservice, but occupies a room in one of the poorer quarters of thecity--a room that she never leaves except at night. Her whole actionsshow that she is afraid of the police--afraid of being tracked for hercrime. She buys a newspaper every night, locks and bars the door onentering her room, and, with tears streaming from her eyes, reads everyword of the criminal news. One night, when she went out to buy herpaper, and what food she needed for the next day, she came unexpectedlyupon a policeman at the corner. The man was not looking at her at all, nor for her, but she fled, running like a deer, doubling and turningthrough alleys and back streets until by a very roundabout road shereached her own room. There she locked herself in, and remainedwithout food all next day rather than go out again. She flung herselfterror-stricken on the bed, after her room door was bolted, and cried, 'Oh, why did I do it? why did I do it? I shall certainly be found out. If Mrs. Brenton is acquitted, they will be after me next day. I did itto make up to John what he had suffered, and yet if John knew it, hewould never speak to me again. '"

[Illustration: "Oh, why did I do it?"]

"Who is John?" asked Speed. 

"Ah, that, " said the detective, "I do not know. When we find out whoJohn is, then we shall find the motive for the crime. "

"In that case, if I were you, I should try to find John as quickly aspossible. "

"Yes, my dear sir, that is exactly what should be done, and my detectiveis now endeavouring to discover the identity of John. He will possiblysucceed in a few days. But there is another way of finding out who Johnis, and perhaps in that you can help me. "

"What other way?"

"There is one man who undoubtedly knows who John is, and that is Mr. Brenton. Now, I thought that perhaps you, who know Brenton better than Ido, would not mind asking him who John is. "

"My dear sir, " said Speed, "Brenton is no particular friend of mine, and I only know him well enough to feel that if there is anycross-examination to be done, I should prefer somebody else to do it. "

"Why, you are not afraid of him, are you?" asked the detective. 

"Afraid of him? Certainly not, but I tell you that Brenton is just alittle touchy and apt to take offence. I have found him so on severaloccasions. Now, as you have practically taken charge of this case, whydon't you go and see him?"

"I suppose I shall have to do that, " said the Frenchman, "if you willnot undertake it. "

"No, I will not. "

"You have no objection, have you, to going with me?"

"It is better for you to see Brenton alone. I do not think he would careto be cross-examined before witnesses, you know. "

"Ah, then, good-bye; I shall find out from Mr. Brenton who John is. "

"I am sure I wish you luck, " replied Speed, as Lecocq took hisdeparture. 

Lecocq found Brenton and Ferris together. The cynical spirit seemed tohave been rather sceptical about the accounts given him of the influencethat Speed and Brenton, combined, had had upon the Chicago newspaperman. Yet he was interested in the case, and although he still maintainedthat no practical good would result, even if a channel of communicationcould be opened between the two states of existence, he had listenedwith his customary respect to what Brenton had to say. 

"Ah, " said Brenton, when he saw the Frenchman, "have you any news forme?"

"Yes, I have. I have news that I will exchange, but meanwhile I wantsome news from you. "

"I have none to give you, " answered Brenton. 

"If you have not, will you undertake to answer any questions I shall askyou, and not take offence if the questions seem to be personal ones?"

"Certainly, " said Brenton; "I shall be glad to answer anything as longas it has a bearing on the case. "

"Very well, then, it has a very distinct bearing on the case. Do youremember the girl Jane Morton?"

"I remember her, of course, as one of the servants in our employ. I knowvery little about her, though. "

"That is just what I wish to find out. Do you know _anything_ about her?"

"No; she had been in our employ but a fortnight, I think, or perhaps itwas a month. My wife attended to these details, of course. I knew thegirl was there, that is all. "

The Frenchman looked very dubious as Brenton said this, while the latterrather bridled up. 

"You evidently do not believe me?" he cried. 

Once more the detective gave his customary gesture, and said--

"Ah, pardon me, you are entirely mistaken. I have this to acquaint youwith. Jane Morton is the one who murdered you. She did it, she says, partly for the sake of John, whoever he is, and partly out of revenge. Now, of course, you are the only man who can give me information as tothe motive. That girl certainly had a motive, and I should like to findout what the motive was. "

Brenton meditated for a few moments, and then suddenly brightened up. 

"I remember, now, an incident which happened a week of two beforeChristmas, which may have a bearing on the case. One night I heard--orthought I heard--a movement downstairs, when I supposed everybody hadretired. I took a revolver in my hand, and went cautiously down thestairs. Of course I had no light, because, if there was a burglar, I didnot wish to make myself too conspicuous a mark. As I went along the hallleading to the kitchen, I saw there was a light inside; but as soon asthey heard me coming the light was put out. When I reached the kitchen, I noticed a man trying to escape through the door that led to thecoalshed. I fired at him twice, and he sank to the floor with a groan. Ithought I had bagged a burglar sure, but it turned out to be nothing ofthe kind. He was merely a young man who had been rather late visitingone of the girls. I suspect now the girl he came to see was JaneMorton. As it was, the noise brought the two girls there, and I neverinvestigated the matter or tried to find out which one it was that hehad been visiting. They were both terror-stricken, and the young manhimself was in a state of great fear. He thought for a moment that hehad been killed. However, he was only shot in the leg, and I sent him tothe house of a physician who keeps such patients as do not wish to go tothe hospital. I did not care to have him go to the hospital, because Iwas afraid the newspapers would get hold of the incident, and makea sensation of it. The whole thing was accidental; the young fellowrealized that, and so, I thought, did the girls; at least, I nevernoticed anything in their behaviour to show the contrary. "

"What sort of a looking girl is Jane Morton?" asked Ferris. 

"She is a tall brunette, with snapping black eyes. "

"Ah, then, I remember her going into the room where you lay, " saidFerris, "on Christmas morning. It struck me when she came out that shewas very cool and self-possessed, and not at all surprised. "

"All I can say, " said Brenton, "is that I never noticed anything in herconduct like resentment at what had happened. I intended to give theyoung fellow a handsome compensation for his injury, but of course whatoccurred on Christmas Eve prevented that: I had really forgotten allabout the circumstance, or I should have told you of it before. "

"Then, " said Lecocq, "the thing now is perfectly clear. That black-eyedvixen murdered you out of revenge. "

[Illustration]

CHAPTER X. 

It was evident to George Stratton that he would have no time beforethe trial came off in which to prove Stephen Roland the guilty person. Besides this, he was in a strange state of mind which he himself couldnot understand. The moment he sat down to think out a plan by whichhe could run down the man he was confident had committed the crime, astrange wavering of mind came over him. Something seemed to say to himthat he was on the wrong track. This became so persistent that Georgewas bewildered, and seriously questioned his own sanity. Whenever he satalone in his own room, the doubts arose and a feeling that he was on thewrong scent took possession of him. This feeling became so strong attimes that he looked up other clues, and at one time tried to findout the whereabouts of the servant girls who had been employed by theBrentons. Curiously enough, the moment he began this search, his mindseemed to become clearer and easier; and when that happened, the oldbelief in the guilt of Stephen Roland resumed its sway again. But theinstant he tried to follow up what clues he had in that direction, hefound himself baffled and assailed again by doubts, and so every efforthe put forth appeared to be nullified. This state of mind was so unusualwith him that he had serious thoughts of abandoning the whole case andgoing back to Chicago. He said to himself, "I am in love with this womanand I shall go crazy if I stay here any longer. " Then he remembered thetrust she appeared to have in his powers of ferreting out the mystery ofthe case, and this in turn encouraged him and urged him on. 

All trace of the girls appeared to be lost. He hesitated to employ aCincinnati detective, fearing that what he discovered would be givenaway to the Cincinnati press. Then he accused himself of disloyalty toMrs. Brenton, in putting his newspaper duty before his duty to her. He was so torn by his conflicting ideas and emotions that at last heresolved to abandon the case altogether and return to Chicago. He packedup his valise and resolved to leave that night for big city, trial or notrial. He had described his symptoms to a prominent physician, and thatphysician told him that the case was driving him mad, and the best thinghe could do was to leave at once for other scenes. He could do no good, and would perhaps end by going insane himself. 

As George Stratton was packing his valise in his room, alone, as hethought, the following conversation was taking place beside him. 

"It is no use, " said Speed; "we are merely muddling him, and not doingany good. The only thing is to leave him alone. If he investigates theRoland part of the case he will soon find out for himself that he is onthe wrong track; then he will take the right one. "

"Yes, " said Brenton; "but the case comes on in a few days. If anythingis to be done, it must be done now. "

"In that I do not agree with you, " said Speed. "Perhaps everything willgo all right at the trial, but even if it does not, there is stilla certain amount of time. You see how we have spoiled things byinterfering. Our first success with him has misled us. We thought wecould do anything; we have really done worse than nothing, because allthis valuable time has been lost. If he had been allowed to proceed inhis own way he would have ferreted out the matter as far as StephenRoland is concerned, and would have found that there was no cause forhis suspicion. As it is he has done nothing. He still believes, if leftalone, that Stephen Roland is the criminal. All our efforts to lead himto the residence of Jane Morton have been unavailing. Now, you see, heis on the eve of going back to Chicago. "

"Well, then, let him go, " said Brenton, despondently. 

"With all my heart, say I, " answered Speed; "but in any case let usleave him alone. "

Before the train started that night Stratton said to himself that he wasa new man. Richard was himself again. He was thoroughly convinced of theguilt of Stephen Roland, and wondered why he had allowed his mind towander off the topic and waste time with other suspicions, for whichhe now saw there was no real excuse. He had not the time, he felt, toinvestigate the subject personally, but he flattered himself he knewexactly the man to put on Roland's track, and, instead of going himselfto Chicago, he sent off the following despatch:--

"Meet me to-morrow morning, without fail, at the Gibson House. Answer. "

Before midnight he had his answer, and next morning he met a man in whomhe had the most implicit confidence, and who had, as he said, the rareand valuable gift of keeping his mouth shut. 

"You see this portrait?" Stratton said, handing to the other aphotograph of Stephen Roland. "Now, I do not know how many hundredchemist shops there are in Cincinnati, but I want you to get a list ofthem, and you must not omit the most obscure shop in town. I want you tovisit every drug store there is in the city, show this photograph to theproprietor and the clerks, and find out if that man bought any chemicalsduring the week or two preceding Christmas. Find out what drugs hebought, and where he bought them, then bring the information to me. "

"How much time do you give me on this, Mr. Stratton?" was the question. 

"Whatever time you want. I wish the thing done thoroughly andcompletely, and, as you know, silence is golden in a case like this. "

[Illustration: "How much time do you give me?"]

"Enough said, " replied the other, and, buttoning the photograph in hisinside pocket, he left the room. 

 * * * * *

There is no necessity of giving an elaborate report of the trial. Anyone who has curiosity in the matter can find the full particulars fromthe files of any paper in the country. Mrs. Brenton was very pale as shesat in the prisoner's dock, but George Stratton thought he never saw anyone look so beautiful. It seemed to him that any man in that crowdedcourtroom could tell in a moment that she was not guilty of the crimewith which she was charged, and he looked at the jury of twelvesupposedly good men, and wondered what they thought of it. 

[Illustration: In the prisoner's dock. ]

The defence claimed that it was not their place to show who committedthe murder. That rested with the prosecution. The prosecution, Mr. Benham maintained, had signally failed to do this. However, in order toaid the prosecution, he was quite willing to show how Mr. Brenton cameto his death. Then witnesses were called, who, to the astonishment ofMrs. Brenton, testified that her husband had all along had a tendency toinsanity. It was proved conclusively that some of his ancestors had diedin a lunatic asylum, and one was stated to have committed suicide. Thedefence produced certain books from Mr. Brenton's library, among themForbes Winslow's volume on "The Mind and the Brain, " to show thatBrenton had studied the subject of suicide. 

The judge's charge was very colourless. It amounted simply to this:If the jury thought the prosecution had shown Mrs. Brenton to havecommitted the crime, they were to bring in a verdict of guilty, and ifthey thought otherwise they were to acquit her; and so the jury retired. 

As they left the court-room a certain gloom fell upon all those who werefriendly to the fair prisoner. 

Despite the great reputation of Benham and Brown, it was the thoughtof every one present that they had made a very poor defence. Theprosecution, on the other hand, had been most ably conducted. It hadbeen shown that Mrs. Brenton was chiefly to profit by her husband'sdeath. The insurance fund alone would add seventy-five thousand dollarsto the money she would control. A number of little points that Strattonhad given no heed to had been magnified, and appeared then to have agreat bearing on the case. For the first time, Stratton admittedto himself that the prosecution had made out a very strong case ofcircumstantial evidence. The defence, too, had been so deplorably weakthat it added really to the strength of the prosecution. A great speechhad been expected of Benham, but he did not rise to the occasion, and, as one who knew him said, Benham evidently believed his client guilty. 

As the jury retired, every one in the court-room felt that there waslittle hope for the prisoner; and this feeling was intensified when, afew moments after, the announcement was made in court, just as thejudge was preparing to leave the bench, that the jury had agreed on theverdict. 

Stratton, in the stillness of the court-room, heard one lawyer whisperto another, "She's doomed. "

There was intense silence as the jury slowly filed into their places, and the foreman stood up. 

"Gentlemen of the jury, " was the question, "have you agreed upon averdict?"

"We have, " answered the foreman. 

"Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty, " was the clear answer. 

At this there was first a moment of silence, and then a ripple ofapplause, promptly checked. 

Mrs. Brenton was free. 

CHAPTER XI. 

George Stratton sat in the court-room for a moment dazed, before hethought of the principal figure in the trial; then he rose to go to herside, but he found that Roland was there before him. He heard her say, "Get me a carriage quickly, and take me away from here. "

So Stratton went back to his hotel to meet his Chicago detective. Thelatter had nothing to report. He told him the number of drug stores hehad visited, but all without avail. No one had recognized the portrait. 

"All right, " said Stratton; "then you will just have to go ahead untilyou find somebody who does. It is, I believe, only a question of timeand perseverance. "

Next morning he arose late. He looked over the report of the trial inthe morning paper, and then, turning to the leader page, read withrising indignation the following editorial:--

"THE BRENTON CASE. 

"The decision of yesterday shows the glorious uncertainty that attendsthe finding of the average American jury. If such verdicts are to berendered, we may as well blot out from the statute-book all punishmentfor all crimes in which the evidence is largely circumstantial. If evera strong case was made out against a human being it was the case of theprosecution in the recent trial. If ever there was a case in which thedefence was deplorably weak, although ably conducted, it was the casethat was concluded yesterday. Should we, then, be prepared to say thatcircumstantial evidence will not be taken by an American jury as groundfor the conviction of a murderer? The chances are that, if we draw thisconclusion, we shall be entirely wrong. If a man stood in the dock, inthe place of the handsome young woman who occupied it yesterday, hewould to-day have been undoubtedly convicted of murder. The conclusion, then, to be arrived at seems to be that, unless there is the directproof of murder against a pretty woman, it is absolutely impossibleto get the average jury of men to convict her. It would seem that thesooner we get women on juries, especially where a woman is on trial, thebetter it will be for the cause of justice. "

Then in other parts of the paper there were little items similar to this--

"If Mrs. Brenton did not poison her husband, then who did?"

That afternoon George Stratton paid a visit to Mrs. Brenton. He hadhoped she had not seen the paper in question, but he hoped in vain. Hefound Mrs. Brenton far from elated with her acquittal. 

"I would give everything I possess, " she said, "to bring the culprit tojustice. "

After a talk on that momentous question, and when George Stratton heldher hand and said good-bye, she asked him--

"When do you go to Chicago?"

"Madam, " he said, "I leave for Chicago the moment I find out whopoisoned William Brenton. "

She answered sadly--

"You may remain a long time in Cincinnati. "

"In some respects, " said Stratton, "I like Cincinnati better thanChicago. "

"You are the first Chicago man I ever heard say that, " she replied. 

"Ah, that was because they did not know Cincinnati as I do. "

"I suppose you must have seen a great deal of the town, but I mustconfess that from now on I should be very glad if I never saw Cincinnatiagain. I would like to consult with you, " she continued, "about the bestway of solving this mystery. I have been thinking of engaging some ofthe best detectives I can get. I suppose New York would be the place. "

"No; Chicago, " answered the young man. 

"Well, then, that is what I wanted to see you about. I would like to getthe very best detectives that can be had. Don't you think that, if theywere promised ample reward, and paid well during the time they wereworking on the case, we might discover the key to this mystery?"

"I do not think much of our detective system, " answered Stratton, "although I suppose there is something in it, and sometimes they managein spite of themselves to stumble on the solution of a crime. Still, Ishall be very glad indeed to give you what advice I can on the subject. I may say I have constituted myself a special detective in this case, and that I hope to have the honour of solving the problem. "

"You are very good, indeed, " she answered, "and I must ask you to let mebear the expense. "

"Oh, the paper will do that. I won't be out of pocket at all, " saidStratton. 

"Well, I hardly know how to put it; but, whether you are successful ornot, I feel very grateful to you, and I hope you will not be offended atwhat I am going to say. Now, promise me that you won't!"

"I shall not be offended, " he answered. "It is a little difficult tooffend a Chicago newspaper man, you know. "

"Now, you mustn't say anything against the newspaper men, for, in spiteof the hard things that some of them have said about me, I like them. "

"Individually or collectively?"

[Illustration: "I feel very grateful to you. "]

"I am afraid I must say individually. You said you wouldn't be offended, so after your search is over you must let me----. The labourer is worthyof his hire, or I should say, his reward--you know what I mean. I presumethat a young man who earns his living on the daily press is notnecessarily wealthy. "

"Why, Mrs. Brenton, what strange ideas you have of the world! Wenewspaper men work at the business merely because we like it. It isn'tat all for the money that's in it. "

"Then you are not offended at what I have said?"

"Oh, not in the least. I may say, however, that I look for a higherreward than money if I am successful in this search. "

"Yes, I am sure you do, " answered the lady, innocently. "If yousucceed in this, you will be very famous. "

"Exactly; it's fame I'm after, " said Stratton, shaking her hand oncemore, and taking his leave. 

When he reached his hotel, he found the Chicago detective waiting forhim. 

"Well, old man, " he said, "anything new?"

"Yes, sir. Something very new. "

"What have you found out?"

"Everything. "

"Very well, let me have it. "

"I found out that this man bought, on December 10th, thirty grains ofmorphia. He had this morphia put up in five-grain capsules. He boughtthis at the drug store on the corner of Blank Street and Nemo Avenue. "

"Good gracious!" answered Stratton. "Then to get morphia he must havehad a physician's certificate. Did you find who the physician was thatsigned the certificate?"

"My dear sir, " said the Chicago man, "this person is himself aphysician, unless I am very much mistaken. I was told that this was theportrait of Stephen Roland. Am I right?"

"That is the name. "

"Well, then, he is a doctor himself. Not doing a very large practice, itis true, but he is a physician. Did you not know that?"

[Illustration: "Here's the detailed report. "]

"No, " said Stratton; "how stupid I am! I never thought of asking theman's occupation. "

"Very well, if that is what you wanted to know, here's the detailedreport of my investigation. "

When the man left, Stratton rubbed his hands. 

"Now, Mr. Stephen Roland, I have you, " he said. 

CHAPTER XII. 

After receiving this information Stratton sat alone in his room andthought deeply over his plans. He did not wish to make a false step, yetthere was hardly enough in the evidence he had secured to warrant hisgiving Stephen Roland up to the police. Besides this, it would put thesuspected man at once on his guard, and there was no question butthat gentleman had taken every precaution to prevent discovery. Afterdeliberating for a long while, he thought that perhaps the best thing hecould do was to endeavour to take Roland by surprise. Meanwhile, beforethe meditating man stood Brenton and Speed, and between them there was aserious disagreement of opinion. 

 * * * * *

"I tell you what it is, " said Speed, "there is no use in our interferingwith Stratton. He is on the wrong track, but, nevertheless, all theinfluence we can use on him in his present frame of mind will merely dowhat it did before--it will muddle the man up. Now, I propose that weleave him severely alone. Let him find out his mistake. He will find itout in some way or other, and then he will be in a condition of mind toturn to the case of Jane Morton. "

"But don't you see, " argued Brenton, "that all the time spent on hispresent investigation is so much time lost? I will agree to leave himalone, as you say, but let us get somebody else on the Morton case. "

"I don't want to do that, " said Speed; "because George Stratton hastaken a great deal of interest in this search. He has done a great dealnow, and I think we should he grateful to him for it. "

"Grateful!" growled Brenton; "he has done it from the most purelyselfish motives that a man can act upon. He has done it entirely for hispaper--for newspaper fame. He has done it for money. "

"Now, " said Speed, hotly, "you must not talk like that of Stratton tome. I won't say what I think of that kind of language coming from you, but you can see how seriously we interfered with his work before, andhow it nearly resulted in his departure for Chicago. I propose now thatwe leave him alone. "

"Leave him alone, then, for any sake, " replied Brenton; "I am sure Ibuild nothing on what he can do anyway. "

"All right, then, " returned Speed, recovering his good nature. "Now, although I am not willing to put any one else on the track of Miss JaneMorton, yet I will tell you what I am willing to do. If you like, wewill go to her residence, and influence her to confess her crime. Ibelieve that can be done. "

"Very well; I want you to understand that I am perfectly reasonableabout the matter. All I want is not to lose any more time. "

"Time?" cried Speed; "why, we have got all the time there is. Mrs. Brenton is acquitted. There is no more danger. "

"That is perfectly true, I admit; but still you can see the grief underwhich she labours, because her name is not yet cleared from the odiumof the crime. You will excuse me, Speed, if I say that you seem to beworking more in the interests of Stratton's journalistic success than inthe interests of Mrs. Brenton's good name. "

"Well, we won't talk about that, " said Speed; "Stratton is amply able totake care of himself, as you will doubtless see. Now, what do you sayto our trying whether or not we can influence Jane Morton to do what sheought to do, and confess her crime?"

"It is not a very promising task, " replied Brenton; "it is hard to get aperson to say words that may lead to the gallows. "

"I'm not so sure about that, " said Speed; "you know the trouble of mindshe is in. I think it more than probable that, after the terror of thelast few weeks, it will be a relief for her to give herself up. "

"Very well; let us go. "

The two men shortly afterwards found themselves in the scantilyfurnished room occupied by Jane Morton. That poor woman was rockingherself to and fro and moaning over her trouble. Then she suddenlystopped rocking, and looked around the room with vague apprehensionin her eyes. She rose and examined the bolts of the door, and, seeingeverything was secure, sat down again. 

"I shall never have any peace in this world again, " she cried toherself. 

She rocked back and forth silently for a few moments. 

"I wish, " she said, "the police would find out all about it, and thenthis agony of mind would end. "

Again she rocked back and forth, with her hands helplessly in her lap. 

"Oh, I cannot do it, _I cannot do it_!" she sobbed, still rocking to andfro. Finally she started to her feet. 

"I _will_ do it, " she cried; "I will confess to Mrs. Brenton herself. Iwill tell her everything. She has gone through trouble herself, and mayhave mercy on me. "

"There, you see, " said Speed to Brenton, "we have overcome thedifficulty, after all. "

"It certainly looks like it, " replied Brenton. "Don't you think, however, that we had better stay with her until she _does_ confess? Mayshe not change her mind?"

"Don't let us overdo the thing, " suggested Speed; "if she doesn't, cometo time, we can easily have another interview with her. The woman'smind is made up. She is in torment, and will be until she confesses hercrime. Let us go and leave her alone. "

 * * * * *

George Stratton was not slow to act when he had once made up his mind. He pinned to the breast of his vest a little shield, on which was theword "detective. " This he had often found useful, in a way that is notat all sanctioned by the law, in ferreting out crime in Chicago. As soonas it was evening he paced up and down in front of Roland's house, andon the opposite side of the road. There was a light in the doctor'sstudy, and he thought that perhaps the best way to proceed was to goboldly into the house and put his scheme into operation. However, as hemeditated on this, the light was turned low, and in a few moments thedoor opened. The doctor came down the steps, and out on the pavement, walking briskly along the street. The reporter followed him on the otherside of the thoroughfare. Whether to do it in the dark or in the light, was the question that troubled Stratton. If he did it in the dark, hewould miss the expression on the face of the surprised man. If he did itin the light, the doctor might recognize him as the Chicago reporter, and would know at once that he was no detective. Still, he felt thatif there was anything in his scheme at all, it was surprise; and heremembered the quick gasp of the lawyer Brown when he told him he knewwhat his defence was. He must be able to note the expression of the manwho was guilty of the terrible crime. 

Having made up his mind to this, he stepped smartly after the doctor, and, when the latter came under a lamp-post, placed his hand suddenly onhis shoulder, and exclaimed--

"Doctor Stephen Roland, I arrest you for the murder of William Brenton!"

CHAPTER XIII. 

Stephen Roland turned quietly around and shook the hand from hisshoulder. It was evident that he recognized Stratton instantly. 

"Is this a Chicago joke?" asked the doctor. 

"If it is, Mr. Roland, I think you will find it a very serious one. "

"Aren't you afraid that _you_ may find it a serious one?"

"I don't see why I should have any fears in the premises, " answered thenewspaper man. 

"My dear sir, do you not realize that I could knock you down or shootyou dead for what you have done, and be perfectly justified in doingso?"

"If you either knock or shoot, " replied the other, "you will have to doit very quickly, for, in the language of the wild and woolly West, I'vegot the drop on you. In my coat pocket is a cocked revolver with myforefinger on the trigger. If you make a hostile move I can let daylightthrough you so quickly that you won't know what has struck you. "

"Electric light, I think you mean, " answered the doctor, quietly. "Evena Chicago man might find it difficult to let daylight through a personat this time in the evening. Now, this sort of thing may be Chicagomanners, but I assure you it will not go down here in Cincinnati. Youhave rendered yourself liable to the law if I cared to make a point ofit, but I do not. Come back with me to my study. I would like to talkwith you. "

Stratton began to feel vaguely that he had made a fool of himself. Hisscheme had utterly failed. The doctor was a great deal cooler and morecollected than he was. Nevertheless, he had a deep distrust of thegentleman, and he kept his revolver handy for fear the other would makea dash to escape him. They walked back without saying a word to eachother until they came to the doctor's office. Into the house theyentered, and the doctor bolted the door behind them. Stratton suspectedthat very likely he was walking into a trap, but he thought he wouldbe equal to any emergency that might arise. The doctor walked into thestudy, and again locked the door of that. Pulling down the blinds, heturned up the gas to its full force and sat down by a table, motioningthe newspaper man to a seat on the other side. 

"Now, " he said calmly to Stratton, "the reason I did not resent yourunwarrantable insult is this: You are conscientiously trying to get atthe root of this mystery. So am I. Your reason is that you wish to scorea victory for your paper. My motive is entirely different, but ourobject is exactly the same. Now, by some strange combination ofcircumstances you have come to the conclusion that I committed thecrime. Am I right?"

"You are perfectly correct, doctor, " replied Stratton. 

"Very well, then. Now, I assure you that I am entirely innocent. Ofcourse, I appreciate the fact that this assurance will not in theslightest degree affect your opinion, but I am interested in knowing whyyou came to your conclusion, and perhaps by putting our heads together, even if I dislike you and you hate me, we may see some light on thismatter that has hitherto been hidden. I presume you have no objection atall to co-operate with me?"

"None in the least, " was the reply. 

"Very well, then. Now, don't mind my feelings at all, but tell meexactly why you have suspected me of being a murderer. "

"Well, " answered Stratton, "in the first place we must look for amotive. It seems to me that you have a motive for the crime. "

"And might I ask what that motive is, or was?"

"You will admit that you disliked Brenton?"

"I will admit that, yes. "

"Very well. You will admit also that you were--well, how shall I putit?--let us say, interested in his wife before her marriage?"

"I will admit that; yes. "

"You, perhaps, will admit that you are interested in her now?"

"I do not see any necessity for admitting that; but still, for thepurpose of getting along with the case, I will admit it. Go on. "

"Very good. Here is a motive for the crime, and a very strong one. First, we will presume that you are in love with the wife of the manwho is murdered. Secondly, supposing that you are mercenary, quitea considerable amount of money will come to you in case you marryBrenton's widow. Next, some one at that table poisoned him. It was notMrs. Brenton, who poured out the cup of coffee. The cup of coffee wasplaced before Brenton, and my opinion is that, until it was placedthere, there was no poison in that cup. The doomed man was entirelyunsuspicious, and therefore it was very easy for a person to slip enoughpoison in that cup unseen by anybody at that table, so that when hedrank his coffee nothing could have saved him. He rose from the tablefeeling badly, and he went to his room and died. Now, who could haveplaced that poison in his cup of coffee? It must have been one of thetwo that sat at his right and left hand. A young lady sat at his righthand. She certainly did not commit the crime. You, Stephen Roland, satat his left hand. Do you deny any of the facts I have recited?"

"That is a very ingenious chain of circumstantial evidence. Of course, you do not think it strong enough to convict a man of such a seriouscrime as murder?"

"No; I quite realize the weakness of the case up to this point. Butthere is more to follow. Fourteen days before that dinner you purchasedat the drug store on the corner of Blank Street and Nemo Avenue thirtygrains of morphia. You had the poison put up in capsules of fivegrains each. What do you say to that bit of evidence added to thecircumstantial chain which you say is ingenious?"

The doctor knit his brows and leaned back in his chair. 

"By the gods!" he said, "you are right. I did buy that morphia. Iremember it now. I don't mind telling you that I had a number ofexperiments on hand, as every doctor has, and I had those capsules putup at the drug store, but this tragedy coming on made me forget allabout the matter. "

"Did you take the morphia with you, doctor?"

"No, I did not. And the box of capsules, I do not think, has beenopened. But that is easily ascertained. "

The doctor rose, went to his cabinet, and unlocked it. From a number ofpackages he selected a small one, and brought it to the desk, placing itbefore the reporter. 

"There is the package. That contains, as you say, thirty grains ofmorphia in half a dozen five-grain capsules. You see that it is sealedjust as it left the drug store. Now, open it and look for yourself. Hereare scales; if you want to see whether a single grain is missing or not, find out for yourself. 

"Perhaps, " said the newspaper man, "we had better leave thisinvestigation for the proper authorities. "

"Then you still believe that I am the murderer of William Brenton?"

"Yes, I still believe that. "

"Very well; you may do as you please. I think, however, in justiceto myself, you should stay right here, and see that this box is nottampered with until the proper authorities, as you say, come. "

Then, placing his hand on the bell, he continued--"Whom shall I sendfor? An ordinary policeman, or some one from the central office? But, now that I think of it, here is a telephone. We can have any one broughthere that you wish. I prefer that neither you nor I leave this roomuntil that functionary has appeared. Name the authority you want broughthere, " said the doctor, going to the telephone, "and I will have himhere if he is in town. "

The newspaper man was nonplussed. The Doctor's actions did not seem likethose of a guilty man. If he were guilty he certainly had more nervethan any person Stratton had ever met. So he hesitated. Then he said--

"Sit down a moment, doctor, and let us talk this thing over. "

"Just as you say, " remarked Roland, drawing up his chair again. 

Stratton took the package, and looked it over carefully. It wascertainly just in the condition in which it had left the drug store; butstill, that could have been easily done by the doctor himself. 

"Suppose we open this package?" he said to Roland. 

"With all my heart, " said the doctor, "go ahead;" and he shoved over tohim a little penknife that was on the table. 

The reporter took the package, ran the knife around the edge, and openedit. There lay six capsules, filled, as the doctor had said. Rolandpicked up one of them, and looked at it critically. 

"I assure you, " he said, "although I am quite aware you do not believe aword I say, that I have not seen those capsules before. "

He drew towards him a piece of paper, opened the capsule, and, let thewhite powder fall on the paper. He looked critically at the powder, anda shade of astonishment came over his face. He picked up the penknife, took a particle on the tip of it, and touched it with his tongue. 

"Don't fool with that thing!" said Stratton. 

"Oh, my dear fellow, " he said, "morphia is not a poison in smallquantities. "

The moment he had tasted it, however, he suddenly picked up the paper, put the five grains on his tongue, and swallowed them. 

Instantly the reporter sprang to his feet. He saw at once the reason forall the assumed coolness. The doctor was merely gaining time in order tocommit suicide. 

"What have you done?" cried the reporter. 

"Done, my dear fellow? nothing very much. This is not morphia; it issulphate of quinine. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

In the morning Jane Morton prepared to meet Mrs. Brenton, and make herconfession. She called at the Brenton residence, but found it closed, as it had been ever since the tragedy of Christmas morning. It took hersome time to discover the whereabouts of Mrs. Brenton, who, since themurder, had resided with a friend except while under arrest. 

For a moment Mrs. Brenton did not recognize the thin and pale woman whostood before her in a state of such extreme nervous agitation, that itseemed as if at any moment she might break down and cry. 

"I don't suppose you'll remember me, ma'am, " began the girl, "but Iworked for you two weeks before--before----"

"Oh yes, " said Mrs. Brenton, "I remember you now. Have you been ill? Youlook quite worn and pale, and very different from what you did the lasttime I saw you. "

"Yes, " said the girl, "I believe I have been ill. ". 

"You _believe_; aren't you sure?"

"I have been very ill in mind, and troubled, and that is the reason Ilook so badly, --Oh, Mrs. Brenton, I wanted to tell you of something thathas been weighing on my mind ever since that awful day! I know you cannever forgive me, but I must tell it to you, or I shall go crazy. "

"Sit down, sit down, " said the lady, kindly; "you know what trouble Ihave been in myself. I am sure that I am more able to sympathize nowwith one who is in trouble than ever I was before. "

"Yes, ma'am; but you were innocent, and I am guilty. That makes all thedifference in the world. "

"Guilty!" cried Mrs. Brenton, a strange fear coming over her as shestared at the girl; "guilty of _what_?"

"Oh, madam, let me tell you all about it. There is, of course, noexcuse; but I'll begin at the beginning. You remember a while beforeChristmas that John came to see me one night, and we sat up very late inthe kitchen, and your husband came down quietly, and when we heard himcoming we put out the light and just as John was trying to get away, your husband shot twice at him, and hit him the second time?"

"Oh yes, " said Mrs. Brenton, "I remember that very well. I had forgottenabout it in my own trouble; but I know that my husband intended to dosomething for the young man. I hope he was not seriously hurt?"

[Illustration: "Guilty! Guilty of what?"]

"No, ma'am; he is able to be about again now as well as ever, and is noteven lame, which we expected he would be. But at the time I thought hewas going to be lame all the rest of his life, and perhaps that is thereason I did what I did. When everything was in confusion in the house, and it was certain that we would all have to leave, I did a very wickedthing. I went to your room, and I stole some of your rings, and somemoney that was there, as well as a lot of other things that were in theroom. It seemed to me then, although, of course, I know now how wickedit was, that you owed John something for what he had gone through, andI thought that he was to be lame, and that you would never miss thethings; but, oh! madam, I have not slept a night since I took them. Ihave been afraid of the police and afraid of being found out. I havepawned nothing, and they are all just as I took them, and I have broughtthem back here to you, with every penny of the money. I know you cannever forgive me, but I am willing now to be given up to the police, and I feel better in my mind than I have done ever since I tookthe things. "

"My poor child!" said Mrs. Brenton, sympathetically, "was that _all_?"

"All?" cried the girl. "Yes, I have brought everything back. "

"Oh, I don't mean that, but I am sorry you have been worried overanything so trivial. I can see how at such a time, and feeling that youhad been wronged, a temptation to take the things came to you. But Ihope you will not trouble any more about the matter. I will see thatJohn is compensated for all the injury he received, as far as it ispossible for money to compensate him. I hope you will keep the money. The other things, of course, I shall take back, and I am glad you cameto tell me of it before telling any one else. I think, perhaps, it isbetter never to say anything to anybody about this. People might notunderstand just what temptation you were put to, and they would not knowthe circumstances of the case, because nobody knows, I think, that Johnwas hurt. Now, my dear girl, do not cry. It is all right. Of course younever will touch anything again that does not belong to you, and thesuffering you have gone through has more than made up for all the wrongyou have done. I am sure that I forgive you quite freely for it, and Ithink it was very noble of you to come and tell me about it. "

Mrs. Brenton took the package from the hands of the weeping girl, andopened it. She found everything there, as the girl had said. She tookthe money and offered it to Jane Morton. The girl shook her head. 

"No, " she cried, "I cannot touch it. I cannot, indeed. It has beenenough misery to me already. "

"Very well, " said Mrs. Brenton. "I would like very much to see John. Will you bring him to me?"

The girl looked at her with startled eyes. 

"You will not tell him?" she said. 

"No indeed, I shall tell him nothing. But I want to do what I can forhim as I said. I suppose you are engaged to be married?"

"Yes, " answered the girl; "but if he knew of this he never, never wouldmarry me. "

"If he did not, " said Mrs. Brenton, "he would not be worthy of you. Buthe shall know nothing about it. You will promise to come here and see mewith him, will you not?"

"Yes, madam, " said the girl. 

"Then good-bye, until I see you again. "

Mrs. Brenton sat for a long time thinking over this confession. It tookher some time to recover her usual self-possession, because for a momentshe had thought the girl was going to confess that she committed murder. In comparison with that awful crime, the theft seemed so trivial thatMrs. Brenton almost smiled when she thought of the girl's distress. 

 * * * * *

"Well, " said John Speed to Mr. Brenton, "if that doesn't beat the OldHarry. Now I, for one, am very glad of it, if we come to the real truthof the matter. "

"I am glad also, " said Brenton, "that the girl is not guilty, although Imust say things looked decidedly against her. "

"I will tell you why I am glad, " said Speed. "I am glad because itwill take some of the superfluous conceit out of that French detectiveLecocq. He was so awfully sure of himself. He couldn't possibly bemistaken. Now, think of the mistakes that man must have made while hewas on earth, and had the power which was given into his hands in Paris. After all, Stratton is on the right track, and he will yet land yourfriend Roland in prison. Let us go and find Lecocq. This is too good tokeep. "

"My dear sir, " said Brenton, "you seem to be more elated because of yourfriend Stratton than for any other reason. Don't you want the matterferreted out at all?"

"Why, certainly I do; but I don't want it ferreted out by bringing aninnocent person into trouble. "

"And may not Stephen Roland be an innocent person?"

"Oh, I suppose so; but I do not think he is. "

"Why do you not think so?"

"Well, if you want the real reason, simply because George Strattonthinks he isn't. I pin my faith to Stratton. "

"I think you overrate your friend Stratton. "

"Overrate him, sir? That is impossible. I love him so well that I hopehe will solve this mystery himself, unaided and alone, and that in goingback to Chicago he will be smashed to pieces in a railway accident, sothat we can have him here to congratulate him. "

CHAPTER XV. 

"I suppose, " said Roland, "you thought for a moment I was trying tocommit suicide. I think, Mr. Stratton, you will have a better opinion ofme by-and-by. I shouldn't be at all surprised if you imagined I inducedyou to come in here to get you into a trap. "

"You are perfectly correct, " said Stratton; "and I may say, althoughthat was my belief, I was not in the least afraid of you, for I had youcovered all the time. "

"Well, " remarked Roland, carelessly, "I don't want to interfere withyour business at all, but I wish you wouldn't cover me quite so much;that revolver of yours might go off. "

"Do you mean to say, " said Stratton, "that there is nothing but quininein those capsules?"

"I'll tell you in a moment, " as he opened them one by one. "No, there isnothing but quinine here. Thirty grains put up in five-grain capsules. "

George Stratton's eyes began to open. Then he slowly rose, and lookedwith horrified face at the doctor. 

"My God!" he cried; "who got the thirty grains of morphia?"

"What do you mean?" asked the doctor. 

"Mean? Why, don't you see it? It is a chemist's mistake. Thirty grainsof quinine have been sent you. Thirty grains of morphia have been sentto somebody else. Was it to William Brenton?"

"By Jove!" said the doctor, "there's something in that. Say, let us goto the drug store. "

The two went out together, and walked to the drug store on the corner ofBlank Street and Nemo Avenue. 

"Do you know this writing?" said Doctor Roland to the druggist, pointingto the label on the box. 

"Yes, " answered the druggist; "that was written by one of myassistants. "

"Can we see him for a few moments?"

"I don't know where he is to be found. He is a worthless fellow, and hasgone to the devil this last few weeks with a rapidity that is somethingstartling. "

"When did he leave?"

"Well, he got drunk and stayed drunk during the holidays, and I had todischarge him. He was a very valuable man when he was sober; but hebegan to be so erratic in his habits that I was afraid he would make aghastly mistake some time, so I discharged him before it was too late. "

"Are you sure you discharged him before it was too late?"

The druggist looked at the doctor, whom he knew well, and said, "I neverheard of any mistake, if he did make it. "

"You keep a book, of course, of all the prescriptions sent out?"

"Certainly. "

"May we look at that book?"

"I shall be very glad to show it to you. What month or week?"

"I want to see what time you sent this box of morphia to me. "

"You don't know about what time it was, do you?

"Yes; it must have been about two weeks before Christmas. "

The chemist looked over the pages of the book, and finally said, "Hereit is. "

"Will you let me look at that page?"

"Certainly. "

The doctor ran his finger down the column, and came to an entry writtenin the same hand. 

"Look here, " he said to Stratton, "thirty grains of quinine sent toWilliam Brenton, and next to it thirty grains of morphia sent to StephenRoland. I see how it was. Those prescriptions were mixed up. My packagewent to poor Brenton. "

The druggist turned pale. 

"I hope, " he said, "nothing public will come of this. "

"My dear sir, " said Roland, "something public will _have_ to come ofit. You will oblige me by ringing up the central police station, as thisbook must be given in charge of the authorities. "

"Look here, " put in Stratton, his newspaper instinct coming uppermost, "I want to get this thing exclusively for the _Argus_. "

"Oh, I guess there will be no trouble about that. Nothing will be madepublic until to-morrow, and you can telegraph to-night if we find thebox of capsules in Brenton's residence. We must take an officer with usfor that purpose, but you can caution or bribe him to keep quiet untilto-morrow. "

When the three went to William Brenton's residence they began a searchof the room in which Brenton had died, but nothing was found. In thecloset of the room hung the clothes of Brenton, and going through themStratton found in the vest pocket of one of the suits a small boxcontaining what was described as five-grain capsules of sulphate ofquinine. The doctor tore one of these capsules apart, so as to see whatwas in it. Without a moment's hesitation he said--

"There you are! That is the morphia. There were six capsules in thisbox, and one of them is missing. William Brenton poisoned himself!Feeling ill, he doubtless took what he thought was a dose of quinine. Many men indulge in what we call the quinine habit. It is getting to bea mild form of tippling. Brenton committed unconscious suicide!"

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XVI. 

A group of men; who were really alive, but invisible to the searchers, stood in the room where the discovery was made. Two of the number wereevidently angry, one in one way and one in another. The rest of thegroup appeared to be very merry. One angry man was Brenton himself, whowas sullenly enraged. The other was the Frenchman, Lecocq, who was asdeeply angered as Brenton, but, instead of being sullen, was exceedinglyvoluble. 

"I tell you, " he cried, "it is not a mistake of mine. I went on correctprinciples from the first. I was misled by one who should have knownbetter. You will remember, gentlemen, " he continued, turning first toone and then the other, "that what I said was that we had certain factsto go on. One of those facts I got from Mr. Brenton. I said to him inyour presence, 'Did you poison yourself?' He answered me, as I can proveby all of you, 'No, I did not. ' I took that for a fact. I thought I wasspeaking to a reasonable man who knew what he was talking about. "

"Haven't I told you time and again, " answered Brenton, indignantly, "that it was a mistake? You asked me if I poisoned myself. I answeredyou that I did not. Your question related to suicide. I did _not_ commitsuicide. I was the victim of a druggist's mistake. If you had asked meif I had taken medicine before I went to bed, I should have told youfrankly, 'Yes. I took one capsule of quinine. ' It has been my habit foryears, when I feel badly. I thought nothing of that. "

"My dear sir, " said Lecocq, "I warned you, and I warned these gentlemen, that the very things that seem trivial to a thoughtless person are thethings that sometimes count. You should have told me _everything_. Ifyou took anything at all, you should have said so. If you had said tome, 'Monsieur Lecocq, before I retired I took five grains of quinine, 'I should have at once said; 'Find where that quinine is, and see if it_is_ quinine, and see if there has not been a mistake. ' I was entirelymisled; I was stupidly misled. "

"Well, if there was stupidity, " returned Brenton, "it was your own. "

"Come, come, gentlemen, " laughed Speed, "all's well that ends well. Everybody has been mistaken, that's all about it. The best detectiveminds of Europe and America, of the world, and of the spirit-land, havebeen misled. You are _all_ wrong. Admit it, and let it end. "

"My dear sir, " said Lecocq, "I shall not admit anything. I was notwrong; I was misled. It was this way----"

"Oh, now, for goodness' sake don't go over it all again. We understandthe circumstances well enough. "

"I tell you, " cried Brenton, in an angry tone, "that----

"Come, come, " said Speed, "we have had enough of this discussion. I tellyou that you are all wrong, every one of you. Come with me, Brenton, andwe will leave this amusing crowd. "

"I shall do nothing of the kind, " answered Brenton, shortly. 

"Oh, very well then, do as you please. I am glad the thing is ended, andI am glad it is ended by my Chicago friend. "

"Your Chicago friend!" sneered Brenton, slightingly; "It was discoveredby Doctor Stephen Roland. "

"My dear fellow, " said Speed, "Stephen Roland had all his time todiscover the thing, and didn't do it, and never would have done it, ifGeorge Stratton hadn't encountered him. Well, good-bye, gentlemen; I amsorry to say that I have had quite enough of this discussion. But onething looms up above it all, and that is that Chicago is ahead of theworld in everything--in detection as well as in fires. "

"My dear sir, " cried Lecocq, "it is not true. I will show you in amoment--"

"You won't show _me_, " said Speed, and he straightway disappeared. 

"Come, Ferris, " said Brenton, "after all, you are the only friend I seemto have; come with me. "

"Where are you going?" asked Ferris, as they left. 

"I want to see how my wife takes the news. "

"Don't, " said Mr. Ferris--"don't do anything of the kind. Leave mattersjust where they are. Everything has turned out what you would call allright. You see that your interference, as far as it went, was perfectlyfutile and useless. I want now to draw your attention to other things. "

"Very well, I will listen to you, " said Brenton, "if you come with meand see how my wife takes the news. I want to enjoy for even a moment ortwo her relief and pleasure at finding that her good name is clear. "

"Very well, " assented Ferris, "I will go with you. "

When they arrived they found the Chicago reporter ahead of them. He hadevidently told Mrs. Brenton all the news, and her face flushed witheager pleasure as she listened to the recital. 

"Now, " said the Chicago man, "I am going to leave Cincinnati. Are yousorry I am going?"

"No, " said Mrs. Brenton, looking him in the face, "I am not sorry. "

Stratton flushed at this, and then said, taking his hat in his hand, "Very well, madam, I shall bid you good day. "

"I am not sorry, " said Mrs. Brenton, holding out her hand, "because Iam going to leave Cincinnati myself, and I hope never to see the cityagain. So if you stayed here, you see, I should never meet you again, Mr. Stratton. "

"Alice, " cried Stratton, impulsively grasping her hand in both of his, "don't you think you would like Chicago as a place of residence?"

"George, " she answered, "I do not know. I am going to Europe, and shallbe there for a year or two. "

Then he said eagerly--

"When you return, or if I go over there to see you after a year or two, may I ask you that question again?"

"Yes, " was the whispered answer. 

 * * * * *

"Come, " said Brenton to Ferris, "let us go. "