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Show J0XMr I fe' ANNA KffltlARSNI QUEEN V AJSilfe'- t&MWMwWa n&at a Awhoh o? "the leavenworth case er-iiX A W4' VPfCn ymmmMrJ i A ""rae rmcBEE bauT'ike rouse ofihewhisperinis hues" ,!sSo2& ?$MW$m m l S illustrations by )7 . iZlfeSS -J v Cl-'v r-( copyright 1911 by tj?ET & .smith j' Yr &5!'J r 8 SYNOPSIS. George Anderson and wife see a remarkable re-markable looking man come out of the Clermont hotel, look around furtively, wash his hands in the snow and pass on. Commotion attracts them to the Clernont, where It is found that the beautiful Miss Kdith Challoner has fallen dead. Anderson Ander-son describes the man he saw wash his hands in the snow. The hotel manager declares him to be Orlando Brotherson. Physicians find that Miss Challoner was stabbed and not shot, which seems to clear Brotherson of suspicion. Gryce, an aged detective, and Sweetwater, nls assistant, as-sistant, take up the case. They believe Miss Challoner stabbed herself. A paper cutter found near the scene of tragedy is believed to be the weapon used. Mr. Challoner Chal-loner tells of a hatch of letters found in his daughter's desk, signed "O. B." All are love letters except one which shows that the writer was displeased. This letter let-ter was signed by Orlando Brotherson. Anderson goes with Sweetwater to identify iden-tify Brotherson, who is to address a meeting meet-ing of anarchists. The place is raided by the police and Brotherson escapes without with-out being identified. Brotherson is found living in a tenement under the name of Dunn. lie is an inventor. Brotherson tells the coroner of his acquaintance with ' Miss Challoner and how she repulsed him with scorn when he oiTered her his love. Sweetwater recalls the mystery of the .murder of a washerwoman in which some details were similar to the Challoner affair. af-fair. Challoner admits his daughter was deeply Interested. If not in love with Brotherson. Brotherson gives the police a plausible explanation of his conduct. Sweetwater plans to disguise himself as a carpenter and seek lodgings in the same building with Brotherson. He watches the inventor at work at night and is detected de-tected by the latter. The detective moves to a room adjoining Brotherson's. He bores a hole in the wall to spy on Brotherson. Broth-erson. He visits him and assists the inventor in-ventor In his work. music was the same grand finale from William Tell which had seemed to work such magic in the night. As Sweetwater caught the mellow but Indifferent In-different notes sounding from those lips of brass, he dragged forth the music-box he held hidden in his coat pocket, and flinging it on the floor stamped upon it. "The man is too strong for me," he cried. "His heart is granite; he meets my every move. What am I to do now?" CHAPTER XIX. The Danger Moment. For a day Sweetwater acknowledged acknowl-edged himself to be mentally crushed, crush-ed, disillusioned and defeated. Then his spirits regained their poise. His opinion was not changed in regard re-gard to his neighbor's secret guilt. But he saw, very plainly by this time, that he would have to employ more subtle methods yet ere his hand would touch the goal which so tantal-izingly tantal-izingly eluded him. His work at the bench suffered that week; he made two mistakes. But by Saturday night he had satisfied himself him-self that he had reached the point where he would be justified in making use of Miss Challoner's letters. So he telephoned h,is wishes to New York, and awaited the promised de- everybody else does Oh, tout le monde, monsieur, that I was Miss Challoner's maid near her when other oth-er people were not near her the very day she died." A pause; then an angry exclamation exclama-tion from some one. Sweetwater thought it from the brother, who may have misinterpreted some look or gesture on Brotherson's part. Brotherson Broth-erson himself would not be apt . to show surprise in any such noisy way. "I I saw many things Oh, many things " the girl proceeded with an admirable mixture of suggestion and reserve. "That day and other days too. She did not talk Oh, no, she did not talk, but I saw Oh, yes, I saw that she that you I'll have to say it, monsieur, that you were tres bons amis after that week in Lenox." "Well?" His utterance of this word was vigorous, but not tender. "What are you coming to? What can you have to show me in this connection that I will believe in for a moment?" "I have these is monsieur certaine that no one can hear? I wouldn't have anybody hear what I have to tell you, for the world for all the world." "No one can overhear." For the first time that day Sweet water breathed a full, deep breath. This assurance had sounded heartfelt. "Blessings on her cunning young head. She thinks of everything." tinued her vituperative attack. "Beast! beast! That she should pour out her innocent heart to you, you! I do not want your money, Monsieur of the common street, of the common house. It would be dirt. Pierre, it would be dirt. Ah, bah! je m'oublle tout a fait. Pierre, 11 est bete. II refuse re-fuse de les toucher. Mais 11 faut qu'il les touche, si je les laisse sur le plancher. Va-t'en! Je me moque de lui. Canaille! L'homme du peu-ple, peu-ple, tout a fait du peuple!" A loud slam the skurrying of feet through the hall, accompanied by the slower and heavier tread of the so-called so-called brother, then silence, and such silence that Sweetwater fancied he could catch the sound of Brotherson's heavy breathing. His own was silenced si-lenced to a gasp. What a treasure of . a girl! How natural her Indignation! What an instinct she showed and what comprehension! But had she imposed on Brother-son? Brother-son? As the silence continued, Sweetwater Sweet-water began to doubt. He understood quite well the importance of his neighbor's first movement. Were he to tear those letters into shreds! He might be thus tempted. All depended on the strength of his present' mood and the real nature of the secret which lay buried in his heart. There was a sound as of settling coal. Only at night would one expect uct of a hidden but always present reality. A month ago and I was ignorant, igno-rant, even, of your name. Now, you seem the best known to me, the best understood, of God's creatures. One afternoon of perfect companionship one flash of strong emotion, with its deep, true insight into each other's soul, and the miracle was wrought. We had met, and henceforth, parting would mean separation only, and not the severing of a mutual bond. One hand, and one only, could do that now. I will not name that hand. For us there is nought ahead but life. "Thus do I ease my heart in the silence si-lence which conditions impose- upon us. Some day I shall hear your voice again, and then " The paper dropped from the reader's read-er's hand. It was several minutes before be-fore he took up another. This one, as it happened, antedated the other, as will appear on reading it: "My friend : "I said that I could not write to you that we must wait. You were willing; will-ing; but there is much to be accomplished, accom-plished, and the silence may be long. My father is not an easy man to please, but he desires my happiness and will listen to my plea wrhen the right hour comes. When you have won your place when you have shown yourself to be the man I feel light had declined, but in the darkness dark-ness of the closet this change had passed unheeded. Night itself might come, but that should not force him to leave his post so long as his neighbor neigh-bor remained behind his locked door, brooding over the words of love and devotion which had come to him, as it were, from the other world. But was he brooding? That sound of iron clattering upon iron! That smothered exclamation and the laugh which ended it! Anger and determination determin-ation rang in that laugh. It had a hideous sound which prepared Sweetwater Sweet-water for the smell which now reached his nostrils. The letters were burning; burn-ing; this time the lid had been lifted from the stove with unrelenting purpose. pur-pose. Poor Edith Challoner's touching touch-ing words had met a different fate from any which she, in her ignorance of this man's nature a nature to ' which she had ascribed untold perfections perfec-tions could possibly have conceived. As Sweetwater thought of this, he stirred nervously in the darkness, and broke into silent Invective against the man who could so insult the memory of one who had perished under the blight of his own coldness and misunderstanding. mis-understanding. Then he suddenly started back surprised and apprehensive. apprehen-sive. Brotherson had unlocked his door, and was coming rapidly his way. Sweetwater heard his step in the hall CHAPTER XVI II. What Am I to Do Now? , Early morning saw Sweetwater peering into the depths of his closet. The hole was hardly visible. This meant that the book he had pushed across it from the other side had not. been removed. Mr. Brotherson's bed was in a remote re-mote corner from the loop-hole made by Sweetwater; but in the stillness now pervading the whole building, the latter could hear his even breathing very distinctly. He was in a deep sleep. The young detective's moment had come. Taking from his breast a. small box, he placed it on a shelf close against the partition. An instant of quiet listening, then he touched a spring in the side of the box and laid his ear, in haste, to his loop-hole. A strain of well-known music broke softly from the box and sent Its vibrations vi-brations through the wall. It was answered instantly by a stir within; then, as the noble air continued, con-tinued, awakening memories of that fatal instant when it crashed through the corridors of the Hotel Clermont, drowning Miss Challoner's cry if not the sound of her fall, a word burst from the sleeping man's lips which carried its own message to the listening listen-ing detective. It wa3 Edith! Miss Challoner's first name, and the tone bespoke a shaken soul, Sweetwater, gasping with excitement, excite-ment, caught the box from the shelf and silenced it. It had done its work and it was no part of Sweetwater's plan to have this strain located, or even to be thought real. But its echo still lingered in Brotherson's other-, other-, wise unconscious ears; for another "Edith!" escaped his lips, followed by a smothered but forceful utterance of these words, "You know I promised prom-ised you " Promised her what? He did not say. Would he have done so had the music lasted a trifle longer? Would he yet complete his sentence? Sweetwater trembled with eagerness and listened breathlessly for the next sound. Brotherson Broth-erson was awake. He was tossing In velopments with an anxiety we can only understand by realizing how much greater were his chances of failure fail-ure than of success. To ensure the latter, every factor in his scheme must work to perfection. The medium of communication (a young, untried girl) must do her part with all the skill of artist and author combined. Would she disappoint them? He did not think so. Women possess a marvelous adaptability for this kind of work, and this one was French, which made the case still more hopeful. But Brotherson! In what spirit would he meet the proposed advances? ad-vances? Would he even admit the girl, and, if he did, would the Interview Inter-view bear any such fruit as Sweetwater Sweet-water hoped for? The man who could mock the terrors of the night by a careless repetition of a strain instinct with the most sacred memories, was not to be depended upon to show much feeling at sight of a departed woman's writing. But no other hope remained, and Sweetwater faced the attempt with heroic determination. The day was Sunday, which ensured en-sured Brotherson's being at home. Nothing would have lured Sweetwater Sweetwa-ter out for a moment, though he had no reason to expect that the affair he was anticipating would come off till early evening. But it did. Late in the afternoon he heard the expected steps go by his door a woman's steps. But they were not alone. A man's accompanied them. What man? Sweetwater hastened to satisfy himself on thi3 point by laying his ear to the partition. parti-tion. Instantly the whole conversation became audible. "An errand? Oh, 7ees, I have an errand!" explained the evidently unwelcome un-welcome Intruder, In her broken English. Eng-lish. "This Is my brother Pierre. My name Is Celeste; Celeste Ledru. I understand English ver' well. I have worked much in families. But he understands- nothing. He is all French. He accompanies me for for the what you call It? les convenances. He knows nothing of the beealness." Sweetwater in the darkness of hlu closet laughed In his gleeful apprecla- "You are unhappy. You have thought Miss Challoner cold; that she had no response for your ver ardent passion. But " these words were uttered sotto voce and with telling pauses "but I know ver much better than that. She was ver proud. She had a right; she was no poor girl like me but she spend hours hours in writing letters she nevaire send. I saw one, just once, for a Ieetle minute; while you could breathe so short as that; and it began with Chert, or your English for that, and It ended with words Oh, ver much like these: You may nevaire see these lines, which was ver interesting, veree so, and made one want to see what sbe did with letters she wrote and nevaire mail; so I watch and look, and otie day I see them. She had a leetlo Ivory box Oh, ver nice, ver pretty. I thought It was jewels she kept locked up so tight. But, non, non, non. It was letters let-ters these letters. I heard them rattle, rat-tle, rattle, not once but many times. You believe me, monsieur?" "I believe you to have taken every advantage possible to spy upon your mistress. I believe that, yes." "From Interest, monsieur, from great Interest." "Self-Interest." "As monsieur pleases. But It was strange, ver strange for a grande' dame like that to write letters-sheets letters-sheets on sheets and then not send them, nevaire. I dreamed of those lettersI let-tersI could not help it, no; and when she died so quick with no word for any one, no word at all, I thought of those writings so secret, so of the heart, and when no one noticed or thought about this box, or or the key she kept shut tight, oh, alwayB tight In her leetle gold purse, I Monsieur, do you want to see those lettors?" asked the girl, with a gulp. Evidently Evident-ly his appearance frightened her or had her acting reached this point of extreme finish? "I had nevaire the chance to put them back. And and they belong to monsieur. They are his all his and so beautiful! Ah, Just like poetry." "I don't consider them mine. I haven't a particle of confidence In you or In your story. You are a thief Bolf-convlcted; or you're an agent of to hear so slight a sound as that in a tenement full of noisy children. But the moment chanced to be propitious, and It not only attracted the attention of Sweetwater on his side of the wall, but it struck the ear of Brotherson also. With an ejaculation as bitter as it was impatient, he roused himself him-self and gathered up the letters. Sweetwater could hear the successive rustlings as he bundled them up In his hand. Then came another silence then the lifting of a stove lid. Sweetwater had not been wrong in his secret apprehension. His identification identi-fication with his unimpressionable neighbor's mood had shown him what to expect. These letters these innocent inno-cent and precious outpourings of a tare and womanly soul the only conceivable con-ceivable open sesame to the hard-locked hard-locked nature ho found himself pitted against, would soon be resolved into a vanishing puff of fmoke. But the lid was thrust back, and the letters remained in hand. Mortal strength lias its limits. Even Brother-son Brother-son could not shut down that lid on words which might have been meant for him, harshly as he had repelled the Idea. The pause which followed told little; lit-tle; but when Sweetwater heard the man within move with characteristic energy to the door, turn the key and step back again to his place at the table, he knew that' the danger moment mo-ment had passed and that those letters let-ters were about to be read, not casually, casual-ly, but seriously, as Indeed their contents con-tents merited. This caused Sweetwater to feel serious seri-ous himself. Upon what result might ho calculate? Impossible to tell. The balance of probability hung even. Sweetwater recognized this, and clung, breathless, to IiIb loop-hole. Fain would he have seen, aB well as heard. Mr. Brotherson read the first lettor, standing. As It soon became public property, I will give It here, just as It afterwards appeared in the columns of the greedy journals: "Beloved: "When I sit, ns I often do, In por-fect por-fect quiet under the stars, and dream that you are looking at them too, not for hours as I do, but for one full mo- you to be, then my father will recognize recog-nize your worth, and the way will be cleared, despite the obstacles which now intervene. "But meantime! Ah, you will not know it, but words will risn the heart must find utterance. What the lip cannot utter, nor the ' looks reveal, these pages shall hold in sacred trust for you till the day when my father will place my hand in yours, with heartfelt approval. "Is It a folly? A woman's weak evasion of the strong silence of man? You may say so some day; but somehow, some-how, I doubt It I doubt it." The creaking of a chair the man within had seated himself. There was no other sound; a soul in turmoil wakens no echoes. Sweetwater envied the walls surrounding the unsympathetic unsympa-thetic reader. They could see. He could only listen. A little while; then that slight rustling again of the unfolding sheet. The following was read, and then the fourth and last: "Dearest: "Did you think I had never seen you till that day we met In Lenox? I am going to tell you a secret a great, great secret such a one as a woman hardly whispers to her own heart. "One day, in early summer, I was sitting in St. Bartholomew's church on Fifth avenue, waiting for the services serv-ices to begin. It was early and the congregation was assembling. While Idly watching the people coming In, I saw a gentleman pass by me up the aisle, who made me forget all the others. oth-ers. He had not the air of a New-Yorker; New-Yorker; ho was not even dressed In city stylo, but ns I noted his face and expression, I said way down in my heart, 'That is the kind of man I could love; the only man I have ever seen who could make me forget my own world and my own people.' It was a passing thought, soon forgotten. But when In that hour of embarrassment and peril on Greylock mountain, I looked up Into the face of my rescuer and saw ngaln that countenance which eo short a time before had called Into llfo impulses till then utterly unknown, un-known, 1 know that i my hour was coma. And that was why my confidence confi-dence was so spontnneotiB and my be- and had hardly time to bound from his closet, when he saw his own door burst in and found himself face to face with his redoubtable neighbor, in a state of such rage as few men could meet without quailing, even were they of his own stature, physical vigor and prowess; and Sweetwater was a small man. However, disappointment such as he had just experienced brings with it a desperation which often outdoes courage, and the detective, smiling with an air of gay surprise, shouted out: "Well, what's the matter now? Has the machine busted, or tumbled into the fire or sailed away to lands unknown un-known out of your open window!" "You were coming out of that closet," was the fierce rejoinder. "What have you got there? Something Some-thing which concerns me, or why should your face go pale at my presence pres-ence and your forehead drip with sweat? Dcn't think that you've deceived de-ceived me for a moment as- to your business here. I recognized you lm- , mediately. You've played the stranger well, but you've a nose and an eye nobody could forget. I have known all along that I had a police spy for a neighbor; but It didn't faze me. I've nothing to conceal, and wouldn't mind a regiment of you fellows if you'd only play a straight game. But when It comes to foisting upon me a parcel of letters to which I have no right, and then setting a fellow like you to count my groans or whatever else they expected ex-pected to hear, I have a right to de-tend de-tend myself, and defend myself I will, by God! But first, let me be sure that my accusations will stand. Coma Into this closet with me. It abuts on the wall of my room and has its own secret, I know. What Is it? I have you at an advantage now, and you shall tell." He did have Sweetwater at an advantage, ad-vantage, and the detective knew It and disdained a struggle which would have only called up a crowd, friendly to the other but Inimical to himself. Allowing Brotherson to drag him Into the closet, he stood quiescent, while the determined man who held him with one hand, felt about with the other oth-er over the shelves and along the partitions till he came to the hole his bed. Now he has leaped to the floor. Sweetwater hears him groan, then comes another silence, broken at last by the sound of his body falling fall-ing back upon the bed and the troubled ejaculation of "Good God!" wrung from Hps no torture could have forced Into complaint under any daytime day-time conditions. Sweetwater continued to listen, but he had heard all, and after some few minutes longer of fruitless waiting, he withdrew from his post. The episode was over. Ho would hear no more that night. Was he satisfied? Sweetwater Imagined the scene saw the figure of Brotherson hesitating at the top of the stalrH saw hers advancing from the writing-room, with startled and uplifted hand heard the music tho crash of that great finale and decided, decid-ed, without hesitation, that the words he had Just heard were Indeed the thoughts of that moment. "Kdith, you know I promised you " What tlon. "Great!" was his comment. "Just great! She has thought of everything or Mr. Gryce has." Meanwhile, the girl was proceeding proceed-ing with Increased volubility. "What 1b thlB beeslness, monsieur? I have something to sell so you Americans speak. Something you will want much ver sacred, ver precious. A souvenir from the tomb, monsieur. Will you give ton no, that Is too leetle fifteen dollars for It? It Is j worth Oh, more, much moro to the true lover. Pierre, tu es bete. Telns-tu Telns-tu droit sur ta chalso. M. Brotherson est un monsieur commo II faut." ThlH adjuration, uttered In sharp reprimand and with but little of the French grace, may or may not have been understood by the unsympathetic man they were meant to Impress. But the name which accompanied them IiIh own name, never heard hut once before In thin house, undoubtedly canned the silence which almost the police whose motives I neither understand nor care to Investigate. Tako up your bag and go. I haven't a cent's worth of lntorest In ItB contents." con-tents." She started to hor foot. Sweetwater heard her chair grato on tho painted floor, as sho pushed It back In rising. The brother rose too, but moro calmly. calm-ly. Brotherson did net Btlr. Sweetwater Sweet-water felt his hopcB rapidly dying down down Into ashes, when suddenly sud-denly her voice broke forth In pants: "And Mario said everybody said that you loved our great lady; that you, of tho people, common, com-inon, com-inon, working with tho hands, living with men and women working with tho hands, that you had soul, sentiment senti-ment what you will of the good and tho grout, and that you would glvo your eyeH for her words, si fines, si HpliituoIloH, ho like (les vers do poeto. False! false! till false! She was an nngel. You are -read that!" sho vehemently ve-hemently broke In, opening her bug ILJ 9 mm lief In the future so absolute. "I trust your love which will work wonders; and I trust my own, which sprang at a look but only gathered strength and permanenco when I found that tho soul of tho man I loved bettered his outward attractions, making ma-king tho ldoal of my foolish girlhood seem as unsubstantial and evanescent ns a dream In the glowing noontldo." "My Own: "I can sny so now; for you have written to me, and I have the dancing words with which to silence any unsought un-sought doubt which might Bubduo tho exuberance of these secret outpourings. outpour-ings. "I did not expect this. I thought (hat you would remain as silent as myself. But men's ways are not our ways. They cannot exhaust longing In purposeless words on scraps of soulless paper, and I am glad Unit I hey cannot. I hive you for your lm-imllenee; lm-imllenee; for your purpose, and for Die manliness which will win you yet ..ii M,.,t ,.,-., ,,t' r.wn.i ..... which had offered such a happy meana of communication between the two rooms. Then, with a laugh almost as bitter In tone as that which rang from Brotherson's Hps, ho acknowledged that business had Its necessities and that apologies from hn were In order; or-der; adding, as they both stepped out Into the rapidly darkening room: "We've played a bout, we two; and you've como out ahead. Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Brotherson. You've cleared yourself so far as I am concerned. I leave this ranch tonight." Tho frown had come hack to tho forehead of tho Indignant man who confronted him. "So you listened." ho cried; "listened "lis-tened when you weren't sneaking under un-der my eye! A line occupation for a man who can dove-tall n corner like an adept. 1 wish I had let you Join the brotherhood you were good onoii!;h to mention. They would know how to appreciate your double gifts limb how-to how-to reward your excellence In tho one, naa ne, promisee ; wnnt sue rcecivotj was d'.-alli! Had this been In his mind? Would this have been tins termination ter-mination of the sentence had he wakened wak-ened less noon to consciousness und C'llltiON? Sweetwater dared to believe It. Could It be? Was II. lie who was 1re:i in lug now, or was the event, of 1lie night a mere faree of his own ima,.iuing? Mr. Urol, henion was -.'lib 'I'll in; In hl.'i room, gaily and with cv r In' p-a'ilng verve, and the liine i-l, , lied Lh whole Uoor wltii readied me point oi einunrrassmcnt, before ho broke It with tho harsh remark re-mark : "Your French may bo good,' but It does not go with me. Yet Ih It. more Intelligible than your Khgllsh. What do you want, hero? What have you In that, bug you wish to oich; and what do you mean by tho sentimental trash with which you offer It?" "Ah, monsieur has not memory of me," c.-irne In the sweetest, tones of a really seductive voice. "You astonish me, monsieur, I thought you know and Whistling u papt-i uwwn ucmin him. "Head and understand my proud mid lovely lady. She did right to die. You are hard- hard. You would have killed her If .die hud not" "Silence, woman! 1 will rend nothing!" noth-ing!" onuin hissing from the strong inan'H teelh, set In almost ungovnrn-iiIjIm ungovnrn-iiIjIm anger. "Take back this lot I or, as you cull It, and leave my room." "Nevaire! You will not, rend? lint, yon shall, you shall. Behold another! One, two, three, four!" Madly they Hew from her hand. Madly she oon- "Take Dack Thin Letter, ne You Call It, and Leave Thla Room." nienl. In which your thoughts are with me ns wholly as mine are with you, I feel Hint Ihe bond between us, unseen by Hie world, and possibly not. wholly rocogii l.ed by ourselves, Is Insllue.t wilh the snine power which links together to-gether the elernllles. 'if seems to have always been; to have known no beginning, (inly u budding, bud-ding, an ellloreneeiiee, Ihe visible prod- lillshment. and love. You expect no reply, but there are ways tu which one can keep silent and yet speak. Won't you be surprised when your nns.wer coinou In a manner you have never I bought of?" CHAPTER XX. Confusion. In his Interest In what was going on on the oilier ride of Hie wall. Sweet-water Sweet-water had forgotten himself. Day- 11 lllH in id'- ciiH'i, ( lull dill (i(e lice expect to lenrn about me that they should consider It necessary to erll Into exercise such extraordinary talents?" "I'm not I'.ood at conundrums. 1 wan given a tasli to perform, and 1 performed per-formed It," was Sweetwater's sturdv reply. Then slowly, with his eye tlxetl directly upon his (inlin.unlst, "1 gue-is they though! you a man. And so did I until 1 heard ou burn those biters. Fort iiiinti Iv we beve cieics " (TO UK CON I'l M' I iVI |