Evening Star Newspaper, April 5, 1925, Page 76

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., 'APRIL 5, 1925—PART The Victim of Amnesia BY ARTHUR SOMERS ROCHE. B e o B e e Without a Memory of His Past, With Criminal Tendencies, What Was His Secret? HE sergeant peered over the tops of his steel-rimmed spee- He twirled the huge around on the slant- him. and dip- inkwell pws drew which hide the tacles. blotter ing desk before in t eyeb ped his pen His bushy in a portentous not, however, ent Lumor in his blu “What's prisoner ot ain't could good frown chavge he asked MecCarthy grinned none, Sergt. It 7 the gentleman dropped in for social relaxation? Or is he rake complaint against some Introduce us, Officer M the against the Carthy “That's just it,” said the policeman. “He don’t know who he is.” Sergt. Ryan adjusted his glasses Tle shifted in his chair that he might get a better view of McCarthy's com- pan He saw a well bullt man of medium height, with extremely keen were deep-set below ehead, above which ¢ that was as straight Indeed, the sharp- high-bridged and the cek-bone by the im- that here was ne in veins ran the blood of the borigines. His mouth, though wide enough for good humor, was thin-lipped. Iis ¢ was bony and aggressive. And his skin had that leathery look which comes to those who live and labor out of doors. Rut his clothing seemed to have nothing.to do with the plains or hills » which he might reasonably have bean assumed to come. For an ex- pert tailor had cut the blue flannel lounge suit which he wore: an Eng- lish tailor, t. Ryan decided. And the slightly brogued low tan shoes could have come fr®m the British Isles. The hat which swung from his hand was a gray felt of delicate and expensive texture. H rf was a golden brown, and beneath it Ryan could see a shirt of soft, fine linen. The sergeant added the face and the clothing together and reached the sum “Wealthy sportsman, English.” “So you don’t know your name?” he said wonderingly. The stranger laughed embarrass- edly. “Sounds jolly rot, doesn't it?" * ok % % ERGT. RYAN mentally mented his own shrewdne the man’s hLis accent nose out <om compli- s. He nationality was indis- o had guessed correctly, for putably British “Well, it does seem strange for a young fellow in the pink of condition, ke vou seem to be, to forget who he is. You talk like an Englishman. I don't know how it is in dear old Lunon, but it ain't exactly healthy to spoof the police over hers Not in my precinct, anyway. So, just out of the kindness of my great big gen- erous heart, I'm telling you that if you came here for a laugh you pick- ed the wrong spot.” The stranger smiled deprecatingly. “If the ny laugh in this, it's on me, not you. Iassure you I never felt less like laughing in my life.” “Well, it's a tough position in, young man,” he said. me the willie “It makes~me feel a little ga-ga,” said the young man. “'Ga-ga’'? Now, that's a new one me. Does it mean the willies? The stranger smiled. “Something ke that, T imagine.” “Well, T don't blame you,” sald the sergeant. “But suppose you tell me the whole story.” The stranger shrugged his well knit shoulders. “There's very little to tell. T suddenly found myself walk- ing on a broad avenue along the edge of a park. T didn't know how 1 got there, where It was, or who I was." He smiled rather winningly. “It's a dreadful sensation.” “T believe you,” declared the ser- geant with emphasis. “You don't sup- pose vou'd been drinking a little boot- leg liquor? It does strange things to prople, you know. “Now, that's a funny thing.” re- plied the stranger. “While I don't know my name, or where I come from, T do remember many things. For in- stance, I know that 1 never drink, and smoke only occasionally. No, it wasn't liquor.” “What did you do when you found out your memory'd gone?" asked the sergeant. The stranger looked embarrassed. “Well, at first I went into a state of panic. Then I said to myself, ‘Look old man, this will never do. &et you anywhere except com- you're “Ird give on Won't vletely ga-ga hat ‘ga-ga’ is a grand word,” commented the sergeant. “Go on.” “Well, across the park I could see tail buildings, bigger than anything t I'd ever seen in London You remember London, then?’ in- terrupted the sergeant. “1 seem to know, somehow, london is my home. But lived there I couldn't po you. Also, I remember that where T ibly tell Paris and “There | | Brussels and the Riviera and Rome quite as well as I remember London.” Polly-voo Francy?" asked the ser- | e Mais je ne suis pas I'm not French together | I't nodded believe | on.” i 11, 1 looked for a sign and dis covered that I was on Fifth avenu | But after two hours I.hadn't learned | anything sbout myself. I couldn't go back of the moment when 1 fuund: myself strolling on Fifth avenue. And| so, finally, eing this officer here, | walked up to him and explained my ament. He advised me to come) you. He said that you {not merely his superior officer, |« man of science.” * Xk ¥ SQERGT. RYAN cast a slance of ap- i probation at Officer McCarthy. The |latter hid a grin. He felt that he| | would be a roundsman soon if Sergt. Ryan’s influence had any weight. An amachoor only,” disclalmed the | sergeant modestly. “However, know something about your trouble. |TI've come into contact with similar| | cases before. Usually the person's| ! memory is restored in a very short| time. Somgtimes there's no medical | treatment at all required o but | | { Just a lit- tle rest, a little time, and the memory comes back. You've probably been under some heavy strain. You don’t look as though you'd been sick.” “I feel fine,” said the stranger. I can’t believe that I've been under any strain.” The sergeant shrugged. “Maybe not. Sometimes a blow on the head—are you hurt anywhere " The stranger shook his head. “Have you any money The young man pulled out a purse. From it he took several hundred dol- lars. “Don’t seem as though you've been robbed,” sald Ryan. ou haven't looked through your clothes?” For letters or other papers? haven't a thing of the sort on me." “I meant for marks on your cloth- ing," explained the sergeant. A light gleamed In the English- man’s eyes. “I haven't got around to thinking of that. Perhaps—" “Let’s go in an inside room,” sug- gested the sergeant. But, strangely enough, thers was rot even a laundry mark upon the stranger's linen. The label that should have been sewed in his jacket was missing. His hat bore no maker's mark. His shoes had no identifying symbol. Well, T don't know what to do for you,” admitted Sergt. Ryan, as the stranger clothed himself. “If you acted nutty, I could ship you over to Bellevue. But you haven't created any trouble, and it ain't a crime yet in this country for a man to forget his name. Of course, they'd take you in at Bellevue if you went there by yourself. What do You say?" It seems so absurd,” said the Eng- lishman. “If I knew of some private specialist—" “lI know the very man for you. Thaddeus Conkling. on Central Park West. He's the biggest man in the country on mental troubles. If he'd take you, you'd be in the best pos- sible hands." “Is he terribly expensive?’ the stranger. Ryan shrugged. “When I was a traffic cop I yanked him from in front of an automobile, and every Christmas he sends me a box of cigars. And he passes the time of day mighty pleasantly when- ever we happen to meet. For a friend of mine he'd be reasonable in his charge: “You're extremely strangor. Sergt. Ryan waved a pudgy hand. “You're a likely looking lad, and it's little enough I'll be doing for you. We'll go to see him in the morning. Where do you plan to spend the night?” “I haven't the vaguest idea” ad- mitted the stranger. “T'd take you home with me myself, only what they pay a police sergeant don’t rent any palaces. There isn't an extra room in my flat But Mc- Carthy here will take you around to the Ballston. It's a decent, quiet place, and you can send a bellboy out for the toilet articles youw'll need.” “I don't know how to thank -you,” said the Englishman. “Don't try,” said Sergt. Ryan. “T'll call around for you about 9 tomor- row morning. And don’'t worry. Mind that You'll be all right in a few days” 1 asked kind,” said the * ¥ Kk % HE camel would have hardly more difficulty in passing through the eve of a needle than a patient would in reaching the presence of Dr. Thaddeus Conkling without an ap- pointment. But the physician was evidently a man who remembered his obligations. Sergt. Ryan sent in his name, and a moment later a nurse : l,‘;’;}u’u‘\’umm\\—‘.‘ N = were | { ushered the sergeant and his com-| panion past a line of walting and dis- approving patients into his inner office. He grected Ryan cordially, and the Englishmuan had a chance to observe the man who, according to the sergeant. stood at the head of his profession. A 'huge man, several inches above 6 feet, and wide in proportion, with a tremendous red beard, bold blue eves that were slightly protruding, and a great scimiter of a nose, he looked more like the relncarnation gf an ancient Viking than a practitioner of medicine. There was something about him that scemed to suggest elemental undisciplined forces, and At was not at all liky' a man of healing. He seemed destructive, not constructive. But his manner, bland and soothing, assorted better with his profession than his appearance. He greeted the Englishman cour- teously, and when Ryan had explained their presence, his protruding eyes looked interestedly at his new pa- tlent, and not without kindness or its close simulation “Strip,” said Conkling. The KEng- lishman obeyed him. Twenty min- utes later his physiclan ordered him to put on his clothes. While he was doing so, and for an hour thereafter, Conkling questioned him on every concelvable subject. At the end of that time he confessed himself baffled “Yours is a most unusual case. Or- dinarily, in cases of aphasia or am- nesia, there are abnormal symptoms that go along with the disease itself. But in your case tifere is absolutely nothing save the fact that you have forgotten your {dentity. I have ques- tioned you In every possible way of which T can think. But none of those questions seems, to strike a note upon the chords of memory. Physically, you are in perfect condition. Men- tally, aside from this blank spot in your brain, you are one of the most alertly intelligent patients I have ever examined. I imagine that we must publish discreet advertisements, hoping in that way to find your fam- ily. The sight of your father, or a brother or sister, or even an ordinary acquaintance, would probably do more for you than all the medical treat- ments in the world." “What reason do you assign for my condition? asked the patient. Dr. Conkling shrugged his massive shoulders. “A great grief, a pro- longed mental strain, the after-effects of & severe illness, or a blow would induce your condition. That is why I'm puzzled. Your physical condition indicates that you have suffered none of these. Except possibly a blow.” “But you can’t find even the slight- est trace of a blow upon me,” object- ed the Englishman. “That is true,” admitted the physi- clan. “But the blow might have been | suffered a long time ago, and its effect be felt only mow. You have nothing to worry about. I assure you that the trouble will go no deep- er than it lles now. Unless my en- tire professional experience is at fault, your condition, if it changes in any way, will do so for the better. “That's not very encouraging, is it2” commented the Englishman. “I can't work miracles,” sald Conk- ling. “If you were highly nervous, or if your physical condition were bad, I would not hesitate to recommend an operation. Somewhere in the skull a plece of bone is pressing upon your brain. But, without knowing where the spit is—its approximate position —we would have to rely entirely upon X-rays. 1 would not care to do so in the case of a perfectly healthy man.” “Then you can do nothing for me?" asked the patient. I suggest that you advertise,” sald the doctor. The patient stared at him. “What sort of a man would you take me to be, ‘doctor?” =“You mean your character?”’ asked the doctor. “Exactly said the Englishman. * k X % - (CONKLING'S eyes half-veiled them- selves behind lids whose veinous redness lent a terrifying aspect to his countenance. “Your features would indicate that you are a man of imagination and recklessness. Your body bears two scars. Either or both might have been wounds received during the war. Unquestionably you were of the mili- tary age. But they might have been received In brawls of one sort or another. My only reason for think- Ing this latter is the fact that your right hand has been broken in two places. They are exactly the sort of breaks that might have been caused Dby the delivery of a blow by the hand. Your complexion indicates that you have lived greatly out of doors. I should sum up by saying that you probably have an adventurous and reckless nature.” “But my morals, Doctor?" Conkling lifted his lids. “I would say, my friend, that you are not a man scrupulous in the ordinary sense of the word. The Englishman nodded. “That's what I'm getting at, Doctor. Suppose that advertising for my friend should bring me enemles “You are not speaking at random,” sald the doctor. Y, /4 / / 7 7 7 % | founa “I don’t know what I'm driving at,” the other's reply. “T only know I woke up last night, tiptoed to it and myself trving the door of the room next to mine. I wasn't walking in my sleep; 1 was wide awake. 1 intended to rob that next room. Now, 1 know that is wrong. I may not en a thiel before I lost m But how do I know Wouldn't it be better for me to aban- don any effort 1o re-establish myself under my own name? Might it not be possible that I would find the police waiting for the owner of that name?" “You are very frank,” sald the doctor. A doctor's office is like a confes- isn't it?" retorted the patient. s one is,” sald Conkling grim- 3 But I have told you that 1 would not risk an operation.” I'm not sure that I'd consent sald the patient. d like know who I am, but I'd like to find out quietly. I don't want to stir up any hornet’s nest.” “You are ver. man," said Conkling what vou intend to leave this office?” Heaven knows. 1 have $500. After that's gone—I have no trade, no profession, no means of earning a livelihood, and no friends.” Dr. Conkling drummed upon his desk with great spatulate fingers. “You Interest me,” he sald at last. “1 gather that you do not look with equanimity upon the prospect of star- vation. You're w that the door of my room, opened remarkable “May 1 ask do when you nearly exactly right,” sald the other. “According to what little I've found out about myself in the last 14 hours or so, your diagnosis of my character is correct. That I am more than reckless, & law-breaker, I don't know."” * ok o¥ % ONKLING ceased his drumming. “You have, of course, no plans. And you interest me. You are a rare type—a man of evident culture who is apparently completely normal. 1 believe that T would be overlooking a scientific opportunity if 1 did not keep you near me. I have need of a 50Tt of secretary-companion. The pay will be ample for your needs. You will Iive here with me. As you work for me you will also be under my medical observation. What do you say?" may be the most victous orim- inal at large; I may be a murderer, objected the Englishman The physician smiled, exposing great white teeth, sharp like those of some carnivorous animal. “You are an extremely well built young man,” he said. “But though I am at least 20 years older, I would back myself in any contest of skill or strength with you. For your own sake, I would advise you to restrain any homlcidal impuises toward me.” The Englishman grinned “I was only suggesting something." “I was making more than a sug- gestlion—I was uttering a warning,” rejoined Conkling. “What do you i “What can I say, except that I am extremely grateful” replied the Eng- lishman. “It iy settled, then. One of the servants will show you your quar- ters. You will dine with me. Your other meals you will take In your room. You will be pald $50 a week. 1 will explain your duties in a few days. In the meantime, [ would sug- gest that you iliarize yourself with the cit t will be all for now.” He made a gesture of dismissal, then called the patient back. “Oh, I can’t call you ‘vou' all the time. Have you any choice of names?” The Englishman shook his head. “I will call you, then, McFarlane— Philip McFarlane. That will be all, McFariane.” The duties of McFarlane were not at all onerous. They consisted for the most part in accompanying the doctor on long walks after office hours and in affording an audience to the physician in the evening when he ordinarily played the violin for a couple of hours. The new secretary had plenty of leisure, and he im- proved it in an odd fashion. He studied the habits of the whole household. He learned what serv- ants were light sleepers, what they did on their nights off, at what hours they might be expected to return. Also he'learned by heart the plans of each floor. And he took it upon himself to ofl certain locks and hinges that had a habit of squeak- ing. And exactly three weeks after his entrance into the Conkling house- hold he crept, at 2 o'clock in the morning, into the bedroom where his employer slept. With an uncanny deftness he took a bunch of keys from the pair of trousers which Conkling had hung over the back of a chair. Kneeling before a house- safe in one corner of the bedroom, he opened it. He had abstracted a great wad of bills when a slight noise fro; the bed made him turn. His employ- er was awake. He leaped for the door. Conkling intercepted him. The two bodles clashed with a nolse that woke the household. Savagely McFarlane tried to break the grip of the glant who had grappled with him. Working free, he struck his employer a half- dozen trip-hammer blows in the face. The physician shook them oft. His great arm circled through the air, his fist collided with McFarlane's jaw, and the secretary went to the floor, completely knocked out. later to * k% ¥ ¢, awakened some time find himself seated in an armchair, his feet and hands bound, while before him, drinking coffee from a cup that stood upon a table, sat Conkling. The physician grinned; he seemed, in his with his hair and beard awry from the recent struggle, like some great hairy ape. “Feeling better?" he asked cheerfully. “What are you going to do with me?" demanded McFarlane. The doctor's grin grew broader. “The butler, his wife, who = the parlor maid: the cook and myseif are all witnesses to your attempt at robbery and your as. sault upon me. What do you think I'm £0ing to do?” “Send for the police, 1 suppose,” said McFariane hoarsely. Conkling set his coffee cup down. “You interested me from the moment you came here. My interest has been in- creased by your activities of the past weelk. It was a touch of positive genius, oiling the doors.” You knew that?’ cried McFarlane. “Certainly. Exactly as 1 knew why you were questioning the servants. You thought the cool and the butler would be cut tonight, didn't you?" “Why didn’t you discharge me, let me g0, when you knew what 1 planned?” demanded McFarlane. The doctor shrugged. “Wherever-you went you would be a criminal. Your own frank confession, plus my accurate observation of you, convinced me of that fact. Why not let you commit your crime amid friendly surroundings? “Is that your reason? Pity for me?” Conkling lighted a cigar. “That, and the fact that, being a sclentific man, T hate to ses good material go to waste. Unmoral men, men without a single scruple and possessed of great physical courage, have their uses. I was not sure of your courage. If you dared put up a fight against me you would be a brave man. So, then, you have certain qualifi- cations valuable to me.” ‘In what way?" asked McFarlane. ‘Before T answer let me remind you that no less credible a witness than Sergt. Ryan can testify that you came to me as a patient suffering from a well known mental ailment. Three witnesses beside myself can testify as to tonight's occurrence. Anything that you might say about me would be dlscounted in advance. You are a criminal and, it I choose to say so, insane.” He puffed at his cigar. “Do I make the situation—your situation—extremely clear?” “Go on,” said McFarlane. “Have you heard of the Malbron gang McFarlane shook his head sullenly. “Of course, not; there has been noth- And you have no recollection of events in this country before you came to me. Well, the Malbron gang, as the police vulgarly term them because of the name by which their leader is known to the police. is the most efficlent group of criminals—If one cares to use so crude a word—in the world. Their leader is always on the lookout for promising re- cruits. Not low thugs, but men of man- ner even though not of tradition. of culture, who can understand the jus- tice that lies behind the Malbron activi- tles. For it is unjust that traders should glean the profits of the world and men of science like myself should siave for money to live and carry on their experi- ment. “We are gentlemen and men of great intellectual attainments. Unfortunately some of us run more to brain than to body. We need athletes like yourself. 1 shall now go to sleep. You may think over the offer which I now make vou: to foin our association. In the morning you may join us or go to jail as a com- mon thief. Good-night. Oh, by the way, I am Malbron. He turned out the light and Me- Farlane heard him climb into bed. “Don’t leave me here tied up all night," said the prisoner. ““Of course I'll join!" THE new recruit to the Malbron gang walked by the side of his leader across Central Park to Fifth * * * (Continued from First Page.) Sheridan immediately dispatched an officer on this errand of mercy. Thinking that Lee might notice the absence of his sword, Grant explained that he had been absent for some days from his baggage and had not been able to secure anything except the clothing which he had on when he left headquarters. The two papers had been copied and signed; the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia by Gen. Lee was a fact, and about 4 in the afternoon of that fateful April day, Lee, after shaking hands with Grant, left the room. accompanied by Col. Marshall. ¥ ¥ %ok TANDING on the porch Lee or- dered his orderly to bring up his horse, and while his charger was be- ing prepared. Leo remained on the lowest step. looking earnestly off to where his army lay. Several times he struck his hands together as if lost in thought, and, unconscious of the group of sympathizing officers who had gathered on the porch above, he stood immovable till his horss was brought to the step. As Lee settled himself into his sad- dle Gen. Grant stepped down from the porch and advancing raised his hat in salute, an act which was fol- lowed by all of the Federal officers present. Jor not one of them that did not admire and sympathize with the man who rode so sadly away down the'road, rode to his men, now an army of prisoners; men who for four years‘had followed “Marse Rob- | ert” through the hell of war and who idolized him as thelr leader. Hardly had Lee and Marshall turned their backs when the gathering of relics of the surrender began. Mr. McLean was at once surrounded by officers who insisted on sales—sales that McLean always sald were never consented to by him, but really cap- tured from him by their superior force. In the excitement of the hour it is hardly likely that any protests of the owner could be heard, and that the gold laid down in payment was left by the purchaser with little thought of whetlier or not it was agreeable to the man to whom the things really belonged. It has been stated that Sheridan secured the table at which Lee sat and later presented it as a’ gift to the wife of Gen. Custer, while Gen. Ord bought the table at which Grant wrote, When Lee entered his own ragged lines a shout went up from every man, but it was Soon stilled into silence—they realized that the man returning to them had just surren- dered to the enemy that they had been fighting for four years, that the war was over, the Confederacy dead, #nd that, ragzed n‘ starved.as they ing in the papers about them recently. | g,/ 0 Men | . “SO YOU DONT KN OW YOUR NAME?” avenue. Dr. Conkling was in a mood | of bloodthirsty cheeriness that would have made lesser man than Mc- Farlane tremble with fear The house to which we are going ie the home of Thomas Bretton, the inventor. You will meet there tonight our entire personnel In the week that has elapsed ce 1 disclosed y identity to you you have been under close observation You have passed all tests Tonight you will be admitted to full ember- ship in our society. And 1 wish to give vou a last warning. Betrayal | means And it means a most 1 assure you that is no one of our assoclation who would not gladly kil a traitor.” As he spoke they emerged from the Park onto the Avenue. A newsboy thrust a paper almost in Conkling's eyes. “Paper, boss?’ he cried Conkling pushed him aside, | Farlane spoke to the boy | “I'l take them all he “T'anks, boss,” said the urchi tra ction took only a moment; Me- Farlane stuffed the great wad of papers into his overcoat pocket and fell into step with his employer. Two minutes later they entered a house on the opposite side of the street. McFarlan 1d rarely seen a more tellect ‘ming group of men than th dozen gentlemen who awaited Conkling and himself in| Bretton's library. And yet, as Conk- ling’s eves protruded in an abnormal | tashion, each the others had| some physical characteristic which | spoke of & mentality, or @ morality, at war with. society. And in the at- mosphere that these abnormalities but Me- said The were, they must go home and begin life all over again With tears flowing down his care- worn face, Lee rode slowly along the lines of his famishing men Who crowded about him protesting their devotion and trying to touch his person or horse in their affectionate farewell. He told them they had done all that human power could, and now it was best to return home | and become good citizens of the coun- try which claimed their alleglance. Gen. Grant on returning to his headquarters would allow no firing of salutes of triumph. His kind heart did not wish any demonstration over a brave but defeated foe. Ra- -tions were issued by the Federal commissary for Lee's men, and the gaunt, ragged forms were soon gath- ered to receive proper food for the first time in several days. The number of Confederates pa- roled at Appogattox was about 28,- 000, but it was estimated that out of that number there were only one- third who had arms. Lee had sus- tained in the last few days a loss of at least 10,000 men. Sadly the men of Lee's devoted army wended their way over a deso- lated land to thelr old homes—or the place which had once been home. For many only blackened ruins of the house which had once sheltered them remained. The campfires died away, the bullet-scarred, blood- stained flags were tenderly packed (Continued from Second Page.) her. They arranged to meet the next day at a tavern in Virginia, 16 miles away, and then separated. He went on with his officlal party to Virginia and she spent the night at her friend's, watching the fires of Wash- ington from the Virginia bluffs. The next day, August 25, the road to the Inn where she was to meet Mr. Madison was so crowded with ref- ugees, vehicles and fleeing troops that Mrs. Madison abandoned her carriage and went forward on foot in the dust and heat, elbowed and jostled by soldiers and negroes, who pushed her aside with insulting remarks. She finally reached the tavern, late in the afternoon, and was roughly refused admission, because her husband was considered responsible for the failure of the war and the attack on Wash- ington. A terrific storm, amounting to a cyclone and followed by downpour§ of rain, broke about 6 o'clock and after Mrs. Madlson had been thorough- Iy drenched she was finally grudg- ingly admitted. The storm (and sus- picion at the lack of resistance) caused Admiral Cockburn to quit Washington suddenly on the evening oL the 26th, but Madigon - and - hisl gathered around themselves was a hint of terror. Outwarly they were all affable, but behind their courtesy he could feel their appraising scrutiny. He real- ized that he was in the meeting plac of the most dangerous group of crim- inals in the world They adfourned shortly to a dining room, where suave servants waited on them. After dinner, a most e celient one, they repaired again to the library, and there the business of tho meeting hegan. Plans were ad- vanced for the robbery of a bank, plans that called for the participa- tion of at least 75 men. “You see, McFarlane,” said Bretton you have become one of the leaders of our association. To vou plans can be made known, for you may be ble to suggest improvements.” “I think 1 can.” replied McFarlane “For instance, your idea = the police in the neighbor- hood away from the scene is not feasible.” The servant who had admitted Me- Farlane and Conkling to the house entercd the room without knocking, the appearance of great haste Deegan has just telephoned. He he followed Dr. Coukling and McFarlane to the house. On the way McFarlane bought some papers from a newsboy. It looked all right, but Deegan followed the boy. He says that the boy went to Madison avenue. stepped in a taxl and drove to the offices of the Holland Detective Agenc McFarlane was standing by a win- dow; @e backed into the embrasure; his left hand shattered the glass, and then on foot and on broken-down horses the remnants of Lee's army vanished over the hills of Appomat- tox. “Ta had sounded for the Southern Confederacy, and one of the bravest armies the world had ever seen melted away to be only a mem- ory. Jefterson Davis had fled from Rich- mond to the South, where a few weeks later he was captured by the Federals. The Great Seal of the Con- federacy was taken away and for many years there was a discussion as to where it had been placed. A few years ago the story came out that it had been carried away from Rich- mond by a Mrs. Alice Berryman Bromwell, who came up to Washing- ton by boat bringing the huge silver seal concealed on her person She had managed to secure the seal while assisting her husband. who was chief clerk of the depart- ment of state of the Confederacy, in concealing many State papers in an old barn. Later on the seal wi placed in the care of a Col. Pickett and by him given to Rear Admiral Thomas O. Selfridge. Later it was sold to a gentleman of Richmond and is now probably on exhibition in its old home. * ¥ PRIL, 1925. Almost every one of the heroes that wore the blue or the gray has gone “over the Great Divide.” Like Jackson, who wished to “cross over the river and rest in Economy in Madison’s Day party did not know it. They ar- rived at the Virginia inn late at night, soaking wet and exhausted. Dolly Madison, despite the hardships through which she had passed, got her hus- band to bed and administered to him, but an hour later a rumor came that the British had discovered their hid- ing place and were after them. The party therefore got up, dressed hasti- Iy and again braved the storm, riding on several miles, until exhaustion made them halt at the hut of a for- ester, where they spent the night. The next day, receiving news that the British had departed, Mr. and Mrs. Madison returned, contemplated the ruined White House sadly, and grate- tully accepted the offer of Col. John Tayloe to occupy his famous man- sion, designed by the celebrated French architect, Latrobe. The resl dence, known then and now as “Octa gon House™ (at Elghteenth strest and New York avenue), was the finest in the little city. There Dolly Madison soon restored her husband to favor, and there was held the brilliant cele- bration of peace the following Winter. The next season the Madisons moved into the end house of the “Seven Bulldings.” still standing at the north- west corner of Nineteenth street and Pennsylvania avenue, 2 ANy - right raised a | ling broke his silenc | “Clever, exceeding | whole busines the boy's newspapers meant th McWarlane bowed tions do you credit of the founder of the The youth who was sup entered the cattle business Amerfca.” McFarlane bowed again. a brilliant man, doctor, and |necessary to take cluborats | tion Conkling slghed. “You would have |been so admirable an asset to us. It is too bad.” his r clever, taking all I suppose thar t we'd all be here tonight especi “Your doetor. Holland, agency rsed to has in South dedu you You it precat * % * % 1S mild speech had been assumed to hide his almost insane wrath That he could think with calm cun- ning at such a moment proved his marvelous self-contrs He dece! d the young ma ng in the wi dow "or when Conk & drew a re- volve: McKFarlane thought that he intended to use it ag t his ptor. So I ordered Conkling to drop his weapon. The doctor never raised He simply pressed the trigger as the muzzle po ed slantingly downward | The bullet hit, McFarlane later dis- covered, the electric light switch the wal the box-like cleset where were th fuses at regulated the lighting of the house. The room was | plunged into darkness. And in that | darkness the r ded genius who headed the Ma who had | forese this or situation and knew exactly how t it caped. The re captured. F. s the xhot sou , detectives in the street down' the door. and ( ASS dered ‘\\R!mu' But while Conkli Malbron n stand broke outer nE's st mkl ates surre barren v For his freedom the organized g kept 14 Eang were said v You said 1 was You | the Malbror | posed of men ur |nals. You were right. 1 you were bizarre in vour and mad to suspect & man 1 ling. But y proved yo wish Conkling had | turea. T'd like to talk t would one {ea to one | tal troubie | " got mblance ¢ wrong gan qu in nal ar thought method on you for laughed. “A per an Englist | Young Holland fectly man sufferin been transfory e detective Holland fille lice methods the brilliant minds t for crime. What next, The younger “Sleep.” he emphatically T been on my guard for three weeks. Tonight 1 sleep without fear of t ing in my slumber, and betray myself to tehing and listening man of genius.” (Copyr dac shook with ms wiil not man shrugged ght, 1925. they have the war- shade of the trees,’ passed on to the halls rior's Valhalla But all over our land today endants of these men. ant left several children, his sons becoming a general Army, and his granddaughter, Dent Grant, marrsing a Ru prince, Michael ntacuzene. other grandson, U. S. Grant, < a colonel the Army today. One son of President Lincoln is living: Nobert T. Lincoln, who makes his home in Georgetown. There are two married daughters, Mrs. Mary Isham who has a son, Lincoln Isham, an Mrs. Jessie Johnson, who has twd children—Robert Lincoln Beckwitl and Mary Lincoln Beckwlith. President Davis' older daughter married Mr. Hays and lived ir Colorado. It has been stated in the press that her son, young Hays, has | taken the name of Davis as his fam ily name. Winnie Davis, the young est daughter of Mr. Davis, died un married. Gen. Lee left several children. The two daughters, Miss Mary and Miss Mildred, died unmarried. Gen. G. W C. Lee, a son, died unmarried, while Robert, jr., and Gen. W. H. F. Lee both have descendents. Col. Robart E. Lee of Washington, well known here, has been dead only two years but he left no children. Dr. George Bolling Lee of New York, brother of | Col. Lee, has two children. Of the Longstreet family, two living in Washington—Maj. Lee Longstreet and Mrs. Louise 1 Whelchel. Two Whelchel boys ar in the service, one having graduate: at West Point and the other at A napolis Mrs. La Salla C. Pickett; widow o the general who was in command o the forces of the famous “Pickett charge” at Gettysburg, makes he home at the Ontario. Her only sc George Pickett, 2d, fell in the Phi pines, and her grandson, George Pici ett, 3d, was badly wounded in b World War. losing a leg. Anothc grandson, Chris, is sm officer in th. Army. Tha are Gen one of in t de 34 & a there are R family of Qen Wright lives in Washington, Hix son, Col. John Wright, has made . Gistinguished name for himself in th service. The widow, daughters and two granddaughters of Gen. Y. Y. Lomax make this city their home. Ir fact, names that are household words are represented in every professic at the Capital Gon. Stonewall Jackson's grandsor whose family name is Christian, is & graduate of West Point and In ac tive service. So is a son of Ger Fitzhugh Lee. Capt. Fitzhugh Lee i= also a West Pointer and serving wit the Regular Army. All over the country—North and South, in the Army, Navy and civ: life—are these descendants of famous sires. They are making what it is today—the leading countr of the world. The blue and the gras have meltedinto-one<oloxy Marcus J Americi, Anniversary of the Fall of Richmond .